


Filii Deorum

by CombatTombat



Series: Imperator [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, F/M, I guess also technically fem!percy but not really it's hard to explain but you'll see, Preyna, Roman Percy Jackson, everyone is badass in this because we believe in equal badass demigods, roman!Percy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CombatTombat/pseuds/CombatTombat
Summary: Camp Jupiter is in chaos. Jason Grace, Son of Jupiter, former Centurion of the Fifth Cohort, and Praetor, is missing, kidnapped out of his own home. Searching harder than anyone else is his cousin, Percy Jackson, Son of Neptune. But with war approaching, it soon becomes clear that Jason was taken for reasons that not even Percy can understand, and he has to choose between finding his cousin and saving his home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of this chapter is lifted directly from The Lost Hero, which means I have to say this—I don’t own any of these characters, they belong to Rick Riordan, and belong to the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus Series owned by Hyperion Publishing/Hachette Books.

**_Hazel_ **

****

“He’s burning himself out,” someone muttered during dinner, “it’s been three days and he’s made it as far east as Texas and back in one day.”

 

Hazel ignored the whispers, keeping her eyes trained on the man in question. Percy Jackson, _Primus Pilus_. Centurion of the First Cohort. Son of Neptune. Her cousin. It was odd, realising that she had someone who considered her family. It wasn’t a feeling that she was used to. But looking at him now, she could see just how tired he was.

 

Percy was normally a tall, broad, and energetic fixture in the legion. That wasn’t who she saw now, seated with the First Cohort. He was haggard, and there were dark circles around his sunken eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which, she realised, he probably hadn’t. She wasn’t the only one who was concerned. Michael Kahale, the _optio_ for the First, had been forced to help Percy sit lest he collapse before he reached his table, and Reyna, the Praetor, was studying him with a concerned gaze.

 

Gwen, her Centurion, sat down beside her silently, a plate of food materialising in front of her.

 

“Percy’s tough,” she said, almost as if she was reading her mind, “but he’s also hard like iron, in that he’ll break before he bends. This… this won’t last a day longer. Reyna will straighten him out.”

 

“Are they… are they dating?” Hazel asked cautiously. She had heard the things the others said, but she wasn’t sure if it was rumour or truth. Gwen, however, would. More importantly, she wouldn’t lie to her about it.

 

“They are,” she confirmed, “have been for… close to a year now, I think. No one’s quite sure _when_ it started, because the only officers who knew died during the Siege of Orthys. But yeah, I think a year is about right. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

 

“I’d… heard things,” she said slowly. Hazel didn’t want to admit _what_ those things she had heard were, “but I wasn’t sure if they were true or not.”

 

“Legion gossip,” Gwen sighed, “I’ve tried to stamp it out, but it happens regardless. The Praetor and the _Primus Pilus_ have a relationship that’s stronger than anything I’ve seen before. It’s sweet. You’ll see it at some point.”

 

“They’re… public with it?” Hazel asked in surprise, “they’re allowed to do that?”

 

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Gwen blinked, “there’s no rules against it that I’m aware of.”

 

 _That’s not what I meant_ , Hazel wanted to say, but she knew better. Things were different here than she was used to. She would need to adapt.

 

“I see,” she said instead, “Percy and Jason were, close, yes? I’ve heard people refer to them as either rivals or as brothers. Which is it?”

 

“Some would say both,” Gwen laughed, “but I know Jason about as well as Percy does—they’re family in all but name. Those two would rather die than hurt each other. It’s why Percy’s working so hard to find Jason—harder than the rest of the legion, for that matter. Even I’ve not done nearly as much as he has.”

 

“But how does he know where to look?”

 

“Percy’s far kinder to the Fauns than anyone else, and in return, they supply him with information given to them by the dryads,” Gwen explained, “so every time he’s gotten a whisper about a blond, he’s taken off to find him.”

 

“And the Faun’s aren’t messing with him?” Hazel asked.

 

“None of them are nearly stupid enough to try,” Gwen stated, voice completely blank, “they fear death far too much.”

 

“Percy wouldn’t, would he?” Hazel gasped.

 

“Honestly?” Gwen shrugged, “if they were malicious in intent, then yes, he would. Percy’s merciful but only to an extent.”

 

“But…” Hazel drifted off, looking at Percy. He had always been quick with a smile and a laugh, but now, he was silent, broody, and by the gods did he look depressed. “… he needs help.”

 

“He does,” Gwen nodded, “and when he asks for it, we’ll give it to him. Or, more likely, when he _needs_ it, we’ll be there for him. For now, trying to get him to stop would only cause him to lash out. Don’t worry about it, Hazel. It’s an issue for the officers, not for you. Let us handle it.”

 

Hazel just nodded, quietly eating her food as she watched Percy almost be force-fed by Michael Kahale. The Son of Neptune looked like death, and Hazel would know better than most what that meant. But despite his haggard and emaciated look, there was still a vitality and… _energy_ in Percy that almost no one else had. He was completely burned, that much was true, but he wasn’t down, not by a long shot.

 

She just hoped he realised he couldn’t keep this up before something _bad_ happened.

 

**XxXxX**

“We’ve picked up a new recruit, Hazel,” Gwen informed her, “Frank Zhang, parent currently unknown, but we’re thinking maybe Apollo. He’s a good shot with a bow, but he needs to learn legion tactics.”

 

“Are you asking me?” she blinked in surprise, “I’ve only been here a month and a half!”

 

“No, no, sorry,” Gwen sighed, “I was just letting you know. Coming here with unknown parentage is… it’s a stigma. Some will look at him differently, treat him differently because his parent didn’t even bother to reveal themselves to his mother.”

 

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she said, “what’s he like?”

 

“Painfully shy, by the gods, it’s like Percy all over again,” Gwen laughed, “though that shyness only lasted the first day. After that, it was like a switch had been flicked. Frank… I’m not entirely sure he has what it takes, but Lupa let him come, so she must’ve seen something that I missed. Wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest. I didn’t see much in Percy till he put Octavian in his place.”

 

“…What?” Hazel blinked, “I’ve never seen either of them have a rude conversation with each other?”

 

“Oh, Hazel,” Gwen muttered fondly, “there was a time when those two couldn’t stand each other. Octavian went as far as to insult Neptune _in front of his shrine_. The gods ordered a duel between the two, first to yield. Percy was still in the Fourth at the time, still a _probatio_ , but he absolutely demolished Octavian. It… it wasn’t pretty. Over the years, there was some tension between the two, but when Percy became _Primus Pilus_ , he and Octavian had a… heart to heart, so to speak. This was just a little before you arrived. That’s why you haven’t seen anything.”

 

“Ah,” she said, “Percy didn’t… hurt him, did he?”

 

“I don’t think so,” her centurion admitted, “but at the same time, it’s possible. I try not to think about it. But enough of this! You’re helping Reyna with the unicorns today. She said something about you always looking at them?”

 

“They’re pretty,” she mumbled, “and they’re all so sweet.”

 

“Not many people here are fans of them, except for Reyna, Percy and… well, now you, I guess,” Gwen said, “that’s probably why Reyna asked for your help. Anyway, you don’t want to keep her waiting. Run along now.”

 

Reyna met her by the stables, leaning against the fence as she fiddled with a ring on her right hand. It was beautiful, wrought from silver with the symbol of Bellona, the sword crossing a torch, engraved on the face. Clearly a gift, and with what she knew now, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who gave it to her.

 

“You’re here, good,” Reyna greeted as she approached, “do you know much about Unicorns?”

 

“Uhm, no, not really, Praetor,” Hazel admitted, “but I’m willing to learn!”

 

“I figured as much,” Reyna conceded, “but I’m willing to teach. Besides, with you here, I’ve now collected a child from each of the Big Three. I’m pretty sure that means I win a prize.”

 

Hazel blinked at her, and it took Reyna’s grin for her to realise she was joking. Still, she felt the need to clarify.

 

“That’s… that’s a joke, right?” She asked shyly.

 

“Of course it is!” Reyna chuckled, “I may not be quick with a joke like Percy or J-Jason, but I _have_ been known to tell a joke once or twice.”

 

The stumble was subtle, but the fact that he voice caught over Jason’s name told her enough—that Reyna wasn’t as unaffected as people believed her to be. Still, Hazel knew that this wasn’t the time to question her about—for that matter, she didn’t have any right to question her about it anyway. Reyna was her Praetor. That was a position of extreme authority. _Probatio’s_ had no right to be asking them anything personal in the slightest.

 

“Alright, here’s the first thing about Unicorns, Hazel,” Reyna told her, “they’re, in essence, horned horses. They like the same thing as horses, and they act exactly the same way. The only difference is that while a horse can run you down, a unicorn will impale you first. _If_ something spooks them, the best thing to do is get out of the paddock as fast as possible, no matter what, okay?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Hazel nodded, “what are we doing with them today?”

 

“We’re just letting them roam a little today, stretch their legs and all that,” the Praetor explained, “our usual wrangler is in Texas for some ranching conference, so I volunteered to do this, and then I voluntold you to come here and help me. It’s nothing too difficult, we just need to let them out, and then encourage them back in after an hour or two.”

 

“That… sounds easy enough, actually,” Hazel admitted. Reyna just gave her a warm smile.

 

“C’mon, Probie, let’s get to work.”

 

They slid the gate open, and the unicorns came out of the stable slowly, almost nervously, as if they didn’t quite think that they were being allowed out. Hazel frowned. Why would they be so confused by being let out. She glanced over to Reyna, who had a similarly puzzled look on her face. Still, once they were out, they began frolicking happily, running around the paddock, grazing, and otherwise being unicorns. Hazel watched them from the fence, enjoying the playfulness of it all.

 

They really were like horses, albeit ones that could gore you without a second thought. She had always liked horses, and they had always liked her. Most animals didn’t take to her as easily, but horses… horses always had. It made her feel better about herself, that at least the horses liked her. Dogs, cats, even birds would avoid her, but horses? Horses never ran away. And the Unicorns didn’t run from her either.

 

“Alright,” Reyna said after nearly two hours, a small smile playing across her face as she watched the herd, “let’s start wrangling them back into the stable, yeah?”

 

Hazel nodded and jumped down off the fence, walking with Reyna to the gate, and helping her pull it open. The Praetor gave a loud whistle, and the unicorns all turned back to face them. She tilted her head towards the stable, and very reluctantly did they agree to begin heading back to the building. Still, they were very clearly annoyed at being forced to go back inside. Still, they were docile enough.

 

For all of ten seconds, before she heard the cry. A unicorn let out something very close to a scream, and soon, all of the herd was rushing towards them, with no intention of stopping, nor any desire to let them move out of the way. She could hear Reyna swearing and calling for her Pegasus, but Scipio wouldn’t reach them in time.

 

Hazel thrust her arms out, letting her senses reach out for the metal in the unicorn horns, and diverting them around the duo, the herd parting like a river striking stone, flowing to either side. Dust was flying in the air, but Hazel kept her eyes closed, and held her breath as long as she dared.

 

“STOP!” The voice was like a thunderclap, and instantly all the unicorns ceased moving, some sliding into each other, but otherwise still. It took Hazel a moment to realise that the reason the command had been so loud was that it had been accompanied by a thunderclap. It wasn’t just Percy striding into the paddock, flanked by Michael Kahale and Larry Byrd, Centurion of the Second. Legionaries ringed the paddock, some with bows pointed at the now immobile herd.

 

“Hazel, Reyna, are you okay?” Percy called out as the unicorns parted before him, some bowing their heads nervously.

 

“We’re fine,” Reyna assured him, her hand just barely brushing over his, “Legionary Hazel just saved my life. She’s officially in the Legion as of this moment.”

 

“By your command, Praetor,” Larry nodded.

 

“What caused this?” Hazel asked quietly, “they were fine a moment ago?”

 

“Someone’s in pain,” Percy said, cocking his head to the side. He still looked haggard, but better than the last time she had seen him, nearly four days prior. Reyna had refused to let him out, and apparently his Pegasus, and any other in range, had refused his summons, forcing him to stay in camp. He slid past more unicorns, before stopping and swearing. Hazel caught a glimpse of a unicorn whose hind was covered in blood, an arrow sticking out of it.

 

She couldn’t hear what Percy was saying, but she was assuming it was soothing words as he gently led the wounded unicorn into the stable. The others followed silently, re-entering their stalls, and waiting for the gates to be closed behind them. Only once they were in their stalls did they begin braying to each other.

 

“They’re worried about the foal,” Percy explained as he guided the unicorn onto its uninjured side, “they’re confused, and they’re scared.”

 

He was silent for a few moments, before he swore again.

 

“The wrangler’s been hitting them when they get too loud. Hasn’t been letting them out, either,” he said, voice surprisingly cold, “they were surprised and a little suspicious when you two let them out, and then when the foal was hit… well, I don’t blame them for stampeding. I just wish it had been the wrangler, and not you two.”

 

“I’ll handle it when he returns,” Reyna told him quietly.

 

“Respectfully, Praetor, I would like to handle this myself,” Percy replied, “unicorns are a magical offshoot of horses—a species my father created. This is—”

 

“Personal, I know,” Reyna assured him, voice still soft, “but this is my job. Let me take care of it. Help the foal now.”

 

Hazel had never seen anything like it. Percy kept a hand on the foal, kept whispering to it as he quickly yanked the arrow out of its side. The unicorn twitched, but otherwise remained still. The braying in the stables became louder, before settling again, save for one mare, who kept braying and braying until Percy turned and looked at it.

 

“Your foal will be fine, Claudia, so please, shut up,” he said. The unicorn looked at him for a moment before snorting. “Yeah, yeah, I know. He’ll be fine in a few weeks. Wrangler Johnson won’t be returning, you have my word.”

 

The unicorn huffed and snorted some more, as Percy gently stitched the wound back together. Michael and Larry watched the exchange between Centurion and Unicorn with some amusement, but no surprise. Reyna’s expression hadn’t changed when Percy began speaking to the unicorn either.

 

“You can talk to horses?” Hazel couldn’t help herself.

 

“Horses, donkeys, unicorns, Pegasi, and most aquatic animals, mammals or not,” he rattled off, “These unicorns like you, Hazel. They keep calling you ‘kind-heart.’ That’s good.”

 

“It is?”

 

“It means they don’t blame you for this attack,” Percy explained as he rose, walking over to the sink and washing the blood off his hands and the arrow. “Nor Reyna, for that matter. They panicked is all. Saw danger where it doesn’t exist.”

 

“What do they call me?” Reyna asked with a curious expression. Percy turned to her, his smile soft.

 

“Our lady,” he told her, “quite an accomplishment for someone who can’t speak to them.”

 

“And, uh, what is it they call you, Perce?” Larry asked with a knowing look.

 

“This arrow isn’t from our armoury,” Percy deflected, “it’s not even made from legion stockpiles. Look at this—Celestial Bronze arrowhead, crudely formed. Shaft came from branch that was whittled to shape, and the fletching is made from bird feathers. That’s why it didn’t penetrate too deeply. It’s a bad arrow, and if I had to guess, whoever fired the shot isn’t using a proper bow either.”

 

“Monster?” Michael offered.

 

“Shot would’ve been more powerful,” Reyna shook her head. “maybe they made the arrow, but whoever fired it is mortal.”

 

“Fully mortal,” Percy nodded, “a demigod wouldn’t have missed that shot,” he paused for a moment, “well, I would’ve but that’s not the point. That’s admittedly not a large list of subjects.”

 

“You think someone in the city did it?” Larry asked slowly.

 

“I’m willing to bet someone in the city _organised_ it,” Percy said slowly, “and someone else tried to carry it out. This was an assassination attempt.”

 

“Percy,” Reyna sighed, “it might’ve been an accident—”

 

“I’ve seen an arrow like this before,” Michael cut in, ignoring the glare that Reyna shot him, “Mount Orthys. The Dracaena fired these. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. It wouldn’t take much of a forager to find them at Tamalpais.”

 

“It also would’ve made it look like a monster attack if it had succeeded,” Larry added, “respectfully Praetor, I think that Percy’s actually right in this case, and not speculating. I think he’s right—and not just because he’s worried for you.”

 

“Fine.” Reyna conceded, “there may be some basis behind this. For now, this stays between the officers and Hazel. No one else knows. Once everything is settled here, head to the Principia. Officers meeting. Shut the building down, too, no one in or out.”

 

“Do we… do we invite the augur?” Larry asked carefully. Reyna glanced at Percy for just a fraction of a second.

 

“This is too sloppy to be Octavian,” the son of Neptune said, “he’d have used someone far more efficient and likely to succeed. But he values living more than ambition, so that also eliminates him. Invite him, don’t invite him, either way, he didn’t do it.”

 

“We’ll keep this strictly among the officers then,” Reyna decided. “Hazel, I’d like it if you kept what you heard to yourself for now.”

 

“Of course, Praetor,” Hazel assured her, “my lips are sealed.”

 

“Thank you,” Reyna tipped her head, “we’ll confirm you in front of the senate this weekend. Head to the _medicus_ , let him look over you and make sure that you’re okay.”

 

That was the dismissal she had been expecting. She slipped out a back door, before making her way to the _medicus_. No one noticed her, and she didn’t stop to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to break her word to the Praetor, no matter what.

 

**Reyna**

“An assassination attempt?” Leila blinked, “we’re certain that’s what this is?”

 

“It’s looking more and more like it,” Larry nodded, “everything points in that direction, and we’ve got no indication to the otherwise. Why else fire an arrow at a herd that the Praetor was wrangling?”

 

“Let me rephrase it, then,” the Centurion of the Fourth said, “we’re certain the _Praetor_ was the target?”

 

“No, we’re not,” Percy admitted, “Hazel being a daughter of Pluto _does_ make her a possible target, but, not to diminish my cousin in the slightest, I’m the larger threat. Why not go after me instead? No, this is looking like Reyna was the target.”

 

“There’s going to be a _very_ quiet investigation,” Reyna said, “Leila, you’ll be in charge of it.”

 

“What?” Percy and Leila said at once, before looking to each other.

 

“Everyone knows we don’t have the… best relationship, to say,” Reyna said carefully, “so they won’t think about you searching for whoever did this. They’d expect Percy, or Larry, but not you. The others will run interference, make it seem like our focus is somewhere else.”

 

“We should place bodyguards on Hazel, then,” Gwen spoke up, “make the assassins think that we mistook who the target was.”

 

“Misdirection,” Percy nodded in approval, “I love it.”

 

“Keep a centurion near her at all times, too,” Hank offered, “rotate us out, too. Obviously Leila gets the least amount of shifts, but…”

 

“But it reinforces the image,” Reyna nodded.

 

“Do we tell Hazel?”

 

“No,” Percy said, “let her think that this is true. She already knows it was an assassination attempt, and like us, she thinks it was against Reyna, but if we begin shadowing her, protecting her…”

 

“She’ll get the other idea, making her reaction more genuine, and thus throwing the assassin off.” Reyna finished for him. Percy gave her a small nod. “Alright, let’s get to it then. Gwen, I need you to take the first shift with watching Hazel. Hank, you take tomorrow, Larry you’ll have Wednesday, and Percy’ll have Thursday. Leila and the Fourth will take Friday, and then we’ll repeat the process, looping centurions around a few times, okay?”

 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” Gwen nodded.

 

“Leila, Percy, hang back,” Reyna ordered. The two in question didn’t rise with the others, who saluted her before leaving. It was odd, having so much power concentrated in her. With Jason missing, she was easily the most powerful person in New Rome, especially since Percy was supporting her unconditionally. Larry, her _optio_ for all of four days, was doing the same thing. The rest, Hank, Leila, and Gwen followed Percy’s lead. Either way, she had the Centurions, and that meant she had the Cohorts.

 

“Perce, wait outside a moment, please?” She asked him. He blinked at her, but rose without complaint and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

 

“You’ll need to do this investigation alone, Leila,” Reyna told her, “Percy will try to help—Gods know how hard he’ll try, but you _can’t_ let him. The moment he gets involved, it becomes personal. That’ll make it more difficult for you to do this.”

 

“I’ve never seen him so angry,” Leila admitted, “it’s not like what I’d expect from him, but you can _feel_ the anger radiating off of him. He needs an outlet, and sooner rather than later.”

 

“Why do you think I asked him to stay behind?” Reyna arched an eyebrow, “I’ve got a job for him, and it’s something he’ll really enjoy.”

 

“Yeah, just remember that we also use this room,” Leila muttered.

 

“Not that!” She cried out, feeling her face flush, “my sister sent a request for legion aid in a matter. Well, more specifically they requested Percy’s help, which means it’s something they need him in particular for.”

 

“Are you sending him because it’s the Amazons who asked or because it was your sister who asked?”

 

“That’s borderline insubordination,” Reyna pointed out, “but I’ll allow it. Yes, the fact that she’s my sister came into account. No, it is not why I made the decision. Look at it this way. The Amazons—a kingdom of women renowned for their dislike, their... belittlement, of men—have asked for _Percy’s_ help. Not the Legion’s. Not even mine. Percy. That tells me whatever the issue is, it is important. Important enough that they ask for a male’s help.”

 

“That’s… that’s a fair point,” Leila admitted, “forgive me for my scepticism, Praetor.”

 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Reyna assured her, “if you need anything for this investigation, you only have to ask.”

 

“We were friends for a while, Reyna,” Leila said softly after a moment, “I know that friendship became strained but… someone tried to kill you. If you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

  
She gave Leila a small smile.

 

“I might take you up on that,” she admitted, “could you send Percy in?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Percy had a quick, hushed exchange with Leila at the doorway, and though she didn’t hear it, she got the gist judging from the way the daughter of Ceres rolled her eyes. _Let me help_ , he had probably said, _I’ll help however I can_.

 

“Take a seat, Percy,” Reyna indicated to the chair in front of her once the door was closed. Her boyfriend gave her an incredulous look before doing as she said. “I have a mission for you.”

 

“You have a what now?”

 

“Hylla and the Amazons reached out to me, asking for your aid—I don’t know what for, but they asked for _you_ by name,” she explained, “You leave in three days. And during these three days, you will be here, in New Rome, either attending senate meetings, handling logistical issues for your cohort, or _resting_. Nothing else.”

 

“Are you ordering me to stop searching for Jason, Praetor?” Percy asked. It was hard to hear the betrayal in his voice, and the hurt in his eyes didn’t help. Regardless, Reyna steeled herself.

 

“I am ordering you to _postpone_ the search for Jason, _Primus Pilus_ ,” she corrected him. “Percy, you’re ruining your body by not resting. You’ve gotten better these past three days, but frankly, you look like shit, and I’m not going to let you kill yourself via exhaustion. I love you too much to do that. Do you really think Jason would be happy to come back and found out that you had dropped dead searching for him?”

 

“I need—”

 

“No, he wouldn’t,” she cut him off, “in fact, I think he’d be incredibly angry that I stood by and let it happen. But let’s forget Jason for a moment. How do you think _I_ would feel if you just… dropped dead? In the five years I’ve known you, you’ve had two times where you were one millimetre from death. I remember the Trojan Sea Monster. I remember Orthys. I won’t let there be a third time. Not if I can stop it.”

 

“It’s our life, Reyna,” Percy sighed, “but… you’re right. I’m no good to Jason dead. I’ll do as you command, but once I’m done with this errand, three things are going to happen.”

“Oh please, enlighten me.”

 

“One, I owe you a dinner date. That’s my priority after my return, whenever that may be,” he said solemnly, “two, if this investigation isn’t over by the time I’m back, I _will_ do things my way. Three, keep looking for Jason.”

 

“So long as you don’t burn yourself out again,” Reyna told him, before rising. He mirrored the movement automatically.

 

Neither said anything as she slotted into his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight to his body.

 

“I could hear the unicorns crying out in fear and anger,” he admitted, “I had already been coming to see you, and I knew you would be putting them back in the stable. I just… I was so worried. My heart stopped. I didn’t think I would reach you in time. Thank the gods for Hazel.”

 

“I’m okay,” she said gently, moving one of his hands so that it rested on her wrist, over a pulse point. “See? Still beating.”

 

“I know why you’re doing this. You don’t want me assisting Leila in the investigation. Clever move, it’ll draw attention away from her if I’m not involved,” he murmured into her hair, “and by sending me on a mission, you reinforce the belief that the attempt wasn’t against you. With me gone, you’ll lose your most dedicated bodyguard. A message in itself. I mean, sure, you were probably planning to send me anyway, but now you have a really good reason to do it.”

 

Gods, she forgot how smart Percy actually was. She knew he wouldn’t have eavesdropped, which means he had come to this conclusion on his own.

 

“Stop being so smart,” she said into his chest. He laughed, the vibrations a pleasant feeling.

 

“I wish I could, sometimes. When’s the next senate meeting?”

 

“Today,” Reyna answered, “in about three hours, why?”

 

“You told me I need to rest,” he said, “I’m going to take a nap. I humbly request that my Praetor joins me for it.”

 

“Were you planning on napping in my bed?”

 

“By Neptune, yes, it’s so large and comfortable. It’s amazing,” he sighed, “truly one of the best benefits of being the Praetor’s boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, so you’re taking advantage of my status, is that it?” Reyna grinned at him, tilting her head upwards.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Percy murmured, the topic change catching her by surprise. He was looking at her with nothing but adoration, and it made her heart flutter in ways that she loved. Only Percy could compliment her and get this type of reaction. Others had tried. They had failed, but not this stubborn, selfless Son of Neptune. He was different. He was _more_. “I love you, Reyna. Never forget that.”

 

“I love you too Percy,” she said, kissing his jaw, “make sure that _you_ never forget that.”

 

“I don’t think I ever could, Rey,” he chuckled, “and I don’t think I’d ever want to.”

 

**_Jason_ **

****

Even before he was electrocuted, Jason was having a rotten day.

 

He woke in the backseat of a school bus, not sure where he was, holding hands with a girl he didn‘t know. That wasn‘t necessarily the rotten part. The girl was cute, but he couldn‘t figure out who she was or what he was doing there. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to think.

 

A few dozen kids sprawled in the seats in front of him, listening to iPods, talking, or sleeping. They all looked around his age … fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, that was scary. He didn‘t know his own age.

 

The bus rumbled along a bumpy road. Out the windows, desert rolled by under a bright blue sky. Jason was pretty sure he didn‘t live in the desert. He tried to think back … the last thing he remembered …


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy arrives in Seattle to help the Amazons, and meets an unexpected family member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a comment on what you think of the chapter!

**Chapter Two**

****

**_Percy_ **

****

“You’re late,” is how Kinzie greets him once he slides off of Blackjack, her foot tapping impatiently. She’s flanked by two more Amazons, both carrying long spears. “We sent the letter nearly two weeks ago.”

 

“I’ve had different priorities,” he said simply, “the Legion doesn’t jump when you call—you’re lucky I could come here as it is.”

 

“War’s over,” Kinzie shrugged, “what could you possibly be doing?”

 

“Praetor Grace went missing. That’s my _cousin_ , so forgive me that I didn’t particularly care to be your stooge.”

 

“Brave words form an unarmed _boy_ ,” one of the guards snarled. Percy stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She recoiled at the look.

 

“You’re either very ignorant or very stupid if you think I need a weapon to be dangerous,” he warned lowly, “threaten me again and I’ll level this building before I leave, favour for my girlfriend or no.”

 

“Easy, easy,” Kinzie stepped between them, hands pressing against their chests, “Legionary Jackson is here as a guest of Queen Hylla, and—”

 

“ _Primus Pilus_ ,” he corrected.

 

“What?”

 

“My title is _Primus Pilus_ —First File, the Centurion of the First Cohort. The senior-most officer under the Praetors,” he said patiently, “so I’d like to be addressed by my proper title.”

 

“The _Primus Pilus_ ,” Kinzie stressed the word, “is here as a guest of our queen and not to be insulted, Abigail. Likewise, Centurion, you _are_ our guest, and there is some curtesy to be observed there.”

 

“Queen Hylla must be waiting,” he pushed ahead, “let’s get this over with. I’d like to return to New Rome as soon as possible.”

 

“He’s different,” the other Amazon guard muttered to Kinzie, “he was always a little stiff, but I remember him joking too.”

 

“We didn’t fight the war to the extent that they did, it seems,” Kinzie replied in a low voice, “and with his cousin missing, I can understand why he’s being testy. Let’s just hope no one gets _too_ offended in court.”

 

Percy ignored their whispers, pushing through the doors to Hylla’s throne room, ignoring the cry of protest from the guards. The queen herself was speaking with a small group of Amazons, who spun around at his entrance, many of them drawing weapons.

 

“You dare?” One challenged him, blocking his path. Percy cocked his head to the side and waited.

 

“Let him pass,” Hylla commanded, “despite his rather rude entrance, I did invite…Centurion, isn’t it?” Percy nodded, so she continued, “Centurion Jackson here. I also just received word that Praetor Grace, Son of Jupiter and Centurion Jackson’s cousin, is missing, and that the by doing me this favour, the centurion is taking time away from his own search.”

 

“I didn’t really have a choice in coming here, Queen Hylla, so I’d rather that we resolve whatever issue you have quickly so that I can get back to it, shall we?” Percy asked. He didn’t some much feel as hear the blade rest against his neck,

 

“This man insults you, my queen,” an Amazon declared, “let me take his head for you.”

 

“Not only would that not end well for you,” Percy said patiently, “but it would guarantee that I level this building and kill everyone inside it, before washing away the ruins with a storm the likes Seattle has never seen. Now kindly remove your blade from my neck before I remove the arm that’s holding it from your body.”

 

“Enough, both of you!” Hylla snapped. “Perseus, I understand your frustration, truly, I do, but I will tolerate no threats to my people, even if you are dear to my sister’s heart. Grace, you threaten Neptune’s favoured son, a champion of the Legion and the killer of Krios. Unarmed or not, this man is far more dangerous than he appears. So why don’t we all just relax, and move on?”

 

The blade was removed from his shoulder, and Percy folded his arms, utterly unimpressed.

 

“I’m here, Hylla,” he said, “apparently this is something only I can help you with?”

 

“It is,” she confirmed, “we’ve recently captured a… well, a brother of yours, I suppose. You speak to horses, do you not?”

 

“I can,” he nodded slowly, “though my father created horses, that doesn’t make them my brothers.”

 

“Normally I’d agree,” she conceded, “but in this case, he actually _is_ a brother of yours. Do you know the tale of Arion?”

 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Percy sighed, “I’m aware of the story. Take me to him, then.”

 

Hylla rose and, flanked by two guards, led him through the compound, until he reached a rather spacious room. It was barred, and the entrance was miniscule, forcing him to duck to get through. He didn’t entirely understand why until he saw the blur speed past him.

 

It took him a moment to realise that the stream of curse words were coming from the horse, and he couldn’t help but start laughing hysterically as he heard what he was saying. Percy was a soldier, and he had grown up around them, so he knew how to swear, but this… this was something else. Arion was a sailor turned up to eleven. The amazons, who had remained outside the barred door, were watching him with a mix of surprise and worry.

 

_Who in the name of my fathers immortal balls are you?_ Arion came to a stop in front of him. _Am I allowed to eat you?_

 

“No, you’re not allowed to eat me,” Percy said patiently, “the fact that you would even consider that kind of worry’s me.”

 

_Oh shit you can hear me?_

 

“Yes. Son of Neptune.”

 

_Well this is awkward. I’ve never had a family reunion before._ The horse stated.

 

“To be fair, I forget I was related to a horse,” Percy replied, “it’s not something I think about a lot.”

 

_Why are you here, kid?_

 

“Favour for my girlfriend,” he explained, “her sister’s the queen of the Amazons, and they asked me to come here. Probably to figure out what you’re doing, but I don’t know.”

 

“None of us can tame him!” Kinzie called over, “we want to know why.”

 

_Ah, these warrior women are something, but they’re not the one’s who will earn the right to ride me,_ Arion explained, _they hunted me for years before capturing me, and now they lock me in a cage? Please, like I’d let them use me after this._

 

“At all?”

 

_Nah, kid, I know my shit,_ Arion neighed, _It’ll be a great warrior who tames me, and it’ll be a woman, but none of these ones. See if you can’t reinforce that point._

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Percy sighed. “They’re not going to let you free, you know that, right?”

 

_I figured. You won’t either, will you?_

 

“No,” he admitted, “the Amazons are an important ally to New Rome. I’m sorry.”

 

_Don’t worry about it, kid. You from New York? I can barely hear the accent, but it’s there._

 

“Yeah,” Percy said, “Lupa taught me how to supress it, but it’s kinda part of me, if we’re being honest. I just… normally speak with a neutral accent, I guess?”

 

_Take it from me, kid, don’t conform. Be an asset, be useful, but don’t change who you are,_ Arion told him, _you won’t do yourself any favours by being someone else. I’ve been alive for a long time, brother, and I learned that the hard way. I tried to be human because my mother begged me, but it felt wrong, unnatural either. But I am who I am because I am a horse. You’re a New Yorker, not a Roman._

Percy didn’t answer, patting Arion’s mane before exiting the cell. He desperately wanted to free him, but he knew it wasn’t his place to do so. Someone would come for Arion, but it wouldn’t be him.

 

“Well?” Hylla demanded.

 

“I’m sorry but I can’t help you,” he said, “Arion says that while he will someday be tamed, it won’t be any of you. The whole hunting and then locking him in a cell thing didn’t really endear you to him.”

 

“What a shame,” Hylla sighed, “it’s what I suspected then.”

 

“You pulled me here to answer a question you already knew the answer for?” Percy asked slowly and quietly, taking deep breaths to stop from exploding.

 

“No, it was part of the reason I brought you here,” Hylla explained patiently, “the other reason was that I’ve heard rumours of a monster horde hiding out in Undercity.”

 

“Undercity?” Percy frowned.

 

“It’s… hard to explain,” Hylla began carefully, “Seattle has a large population of, for the most part, peaceful monsters. They live underneath the city, literally carving out a city from the sewers. They leave mortals alone, so we leave them alone. This new warband has disturbed that status quo, and they’ve settled annoyingly close to my people’s territory. Telekhines, if you can believe it. They created a small fortress, with a single gate that can only be opened by an underwater chamber.”

 

“Telekhines,” Percy repeated. He hated Telekhines. “You need me to open the gates for you?”

 

“Yes. And fight with us, hopefully,” the queen explained, “monsters fear you, Percy, and from what I understand, it’s a fear well earned. Your presence would be an advantage.”

 

Percy was silent for a moment.

 

“You have smiths?” He asked. Hylla blinked, taken slightly aback by the question, but nodded.

 

“Yes, many of them daughters of Vulcan. You need weapons? Armour?”

 

“Both,” he said, “my set was destroyed by Krios’ death-throes. Same with _Crocea Mors_.”

 

“And you didn’t get any replacement sets from the legion?”

 

“Why would I?” Percy asked, “my body is only now back to the shape it was in before Orthys. Wearing armour would’ve hampered my recovery, as would using a weapon. Besides, the war is over. I didn’t want to spend any more time in armour than I had to.”

 

“We’ll get you both, then,” Hylla nodded, “it’ll take a day or so, but it should be quality stuff. I’m assuming you want it in the Roman style?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, “I won’t be keeping it.”

 

“Very well then,” she said, “Kinzie, take Perseus to the forges, have the weapon smiths forge what he wants, and have the armour smiths take his measurements.”

 

“By your command, my queen,” Kinzie nodded, “follow me.”

 

He trailed several paces behind her, staying silent the entire time. They went through nearly four different sections of the building before they reached the forge, a large, garage-like structure filled with all the tools a blacksmith would need, as well as large forges that Percy had no doubt would reach insane temperatures.

 

“Morgan!” Kinzie called out, and a soot covered girl detached from an anvil, letting another take her spot before ambling over to them. “This is Centurion Jackson from the Twelfth Legion down in San Francisco. Queen Hylla wants him armed and armoured. I’m leaving that up to you.”

 

“Oh! You’re the son of Neptune aren’t you?” Morgan asked, a flash of white teeth contrasting brilliantly from her otherwise dark face. Percy didn’t think he had ever seen someone covered with so much soot, and he had seen the legion smiths at work for years. “So what, do you need a trident or something?”

 

“Sword,” he said simply, “probably closer to a spatha than a gladius, if possible.”

 

“A cavalry sword? Are you sure?”

 

“It became standard issue for infantry in the later empire,” Percy shrugged, not willing to divulge his real reasons for wanting the longer blade. “So it’ll work for me.”

 

“Fair enough. Need a shield with that?” She wasn’t taking notes, which hopefully meant she was fully capable of doing this without needing to be reminded.

 

“Nah, I’ll be fine without a shield. It’d just get in the way down there.”

 

“Alright. Armour will be simple—a cuirass, vambraces, and greaves. No frills. Purely functional,” Morgan explained, “I’m just going to take some quick measurements to make sure I get everything right, and then I’ll get started. I’ll be done by tomorrow noon-ish. Will this be all?”

 

“So it would seem,” Percy replied, “I appreciate this. Thank you.”

 

“You can thank me by doing whatever Queen Hylla needs you to do,” Morgan shrugged, “and giving me the weapon and armour back once you’re done. We don’t have infinite resources, and I don’t want this material being used once and never again.”

 

“We’ve got a deal,” Percy said, and Morgan grinned at him again.

 

“Now get out of here.”

 

**XXX**

_It’s always sewers,_ Percy miserably as he travelled through the drain to the chamber where the mechanism was located. Telekhines, for some unfathomable reason, loved sewers. Seattle’s undercity was the monster-infested ruins beneath the mortal city, where the mythological creatures eked out what could only charitably be called a life. It was a bastardised civilization, a crude mockery of surface life. Store-fronts, districts, even a gods-damned city council made up of the most powerful rulers.

 

By the time he reached the chamber, he had killed four Telekhines, posted as guards. He’d have to move quickly, because if they were organised enough to post guards, they were organised enough to rotate the guards out. He just hoped he had caught these ones at the beginning of a shift and not the _end_ of one.

 

The mechanism, he found, was meant to be operated by at least two Telekhines, pulling it down, against the weight of the water. It was cleverly designed, but it didn’t account for two things. One, Percy was stronger when he was in the water. Two, he could _control_ said water. He didn’t even need to touch it—he just focused, felt that familiar tug in his gut, and watched as the lever shuddered for a moment before sliding in a downwards motion, before _clicking_ into place. He immediately turned around and swam back to the edge of the drain, bursting upwards as Hylla led a host of Amazon’s charging into the Telekhines lair.

 

His sword lopped the leg off a Telekhine who wasn’t paying attention to the water, and the beast let out a cry before dissolving. That drew the attention of a few of them, but by then it was far too late. Percy was among them, his sword an extension of his body and himself a tornado of death. Two, three, four more Telekhines were dead before they truly realised what was happening, and that was when the Amazon’s collided with the hastily assembled shield wall, and Hylla, wearing Hippolyta’s belt, smashed right through them, creating a gap her guards quickly widened. There were still nearly forty Telekhines between Percy and the Amazons.

 

It was child’s play. The monsters couldn’t figure out whether the small army of Amazon’s were the larger threat, or if Percy was. The kept turning around to face one or the other, and that indecisiveness cost them their lives. Percy wasn’t even trying to fight _to_ the Amazons, either. He was cutting a path further into the compound, dealing with the Telekhines as they stumbled out of alcoves and forges.

 

By the time Hylla and her warriors reached him, he had almost single-handily cleared the large inner courtyard of monsters. Kinzie was the one to claim the final kill, launching her spear like a javelin and impaling a Telekhine that Percy had caught in the corner of his eye while he gutted one of its brethren, but not able to move to counter. The Amazon warrior had saved his life, even he wasn’t too big to admit that.

 

“Thank you,” he tipped his head towards her.

 

“I’m sure the armour would’ve caught it,” she shrugged, “but I didn’t want to risk Hylla’s wrath.”

 

“Either way, I appreciate it,” he reiterated, “and I won’t forget it.”

 

“The leader and his personal guard should be in here,” Hylla pointed at the large, reinforced door at the end of the courtyard. It was made of hard wood, with strips of Imperial Gold and Celestial Bronze running across it. “That door won’t be fun to take down, and the longer we’re down here, the higher chance there is that the Undercity will respond.”

 

“I can take it down,” Percy told them, “but I’ll need a clear path from the water to here. Move your warriors out of the way.”

 

It was a credit to the Amazons that they moved at the merest signal from Hylla. Once he was certain there were no obstructions to the reinforced door, Percy stepped back, took a deep breath in, and once more felt that familiar tug in his gut. He had always trained with his powers, but he had never used them to a large extent in practical situations. That had changed during his quest for Juno, and during the Battle of Mount Orthys. Ever since then he had, privately, been training to use his powers offensively, instead of just in addition to his regular fighting. The large jet of water travelling at the speed of a formula one car was evidence enough of that. It slammed into his back but travelled around his body without moving him an inch, punching a hole in the door and sending it flying off it’s hinges.

 

Percy followed behind, and as the water dropped away, he attacked. A crude spear was batted away before his spatha was punched through the throat of the Telekhine that had tried to impale him. A sweeping gesture with his hand sent three spikes of water through another monster, before reforming as a disk that spun around him, acting as a shield against an attack from his left. The Amazon’s were quickly in, getting stuck right in the fight. Percy let them swarm past him as he studied the monsters, trying to spot the leader.

 

With Telekhines, you had two types of warlords. The first was the stereotypical monster—the strongest, most brutal one there was. The second was a bit tricker. Cunning, smart, but no less lethal, they often seemed to be less threatening than some of their other ilk, and they used it to their advantage. Those were the ones that hid behind a large guard, who would often be mistaken for the warlord. Percy spotted him after a moment, standing behind and to the right of a rather burly Telekhine bellowing war-cries and seemingly directing the defence.

 

“Make a gap!” he barked, and thankfully the Amazon’s parted for him without question.

 

His sword swept left and right, and he was covered by a fine layer of monster dust. The larger fake-warlord made to cut him off, but Percy wasn’t in any mood for a prolonged fight. He clenched his fist, and the large Telekhine was crushed by a wall of water. He kept striding forwards, reaching out and grabbing the real leader by the throat and slamming him against the wall.

 

“When they ask you how you died,” he hissed, “tell them it was Percy Jackson, Titan-Killer, _Primus Pilus_ of the Twelfth Legion that killed you. I suspect many of them will understand.”

 

He drove the tip of his sword through the Telekhines chest, and it spat black blood on his face before dissolving. Percy wiped his hand down his face, before spitting on the floor. He turned back to the Amazons, who were looking at him with something akin to approval. He knew they didn’t hate men, but nor did they see them as equals. They saw men as needing to be subservient to women, but at the same time, they recognised they’d never be able to accomplish that with him.

 

“We should leave before the Undercity comes to investigate,” Hylla declared. “Good job, Jackson.”

 

Percy gave her a single nod before turning and walking through the Amazonian ranks. Some of them nodded at him, others muttered his ranks, but they looked at him differently than they had when he arrived at their compound the day before. He simply nodded at each of them in return. He hadn’t come here to make a point but… it had been made regardless.

 

**XXX**

The celebration was wild. Percy watched from a balcony as the Amazons drank themselves into a stupor, vanishing with some of the men they kept as… well, Percy wasn’t sure how to describe them. They weren’t slaves. Serfs, maybe? He let it slip from his mind as he watched. And watched. And watched. He had no intention to partake in the party. It wasn’t his scene, anyways.

 

“I’m not a big fan of the parties either,” Hylla said from his side. Percy had heard her approach but hadn’t particularly cared to engage in conversation with her. “Sometimes, yes, but for most of them, I stand right where you are thinking about _why_ we are celebrating. You were…something else, Percy Jackson. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t think my Amazon’s would’ve escaped unscathed. But you are hurting, and that much is clear for anyone to see. Your cousin’s kidnapping weighs heavily on your mind, and I don’t need Reyna telling me to be able to see it.”

 

“It’s been nine days and thirteen hours since he was taken,” Percy told her, “and I’ve found no trace of him. I’ve gone as far as the Mississippi, and nothing. The nature spirits haven’t seen him, the river spirits haven’t sensed him. It’s like he just ceased to exist. But I don’t believe that. I _refuse_ to believe that. It would take a being of immense power to hide him away like that.”

 

“You’re not suggesting…” Hylla trailed off, disbelief clear in her tone, “…you’re not suggesting a _god_ is responsible?”

 

“I have no proof,” he shrugged, “just suspicions. But suspicions don’t help anyone, and I’ve got other issues closer to home to deal with.”

 

“This… assassination attempt against my sister?” Hylla sneered, “and you Romans were supposed to be loyal to the point of rigidity.”

 

“We Romans are also ambitious,” Percy pointed out. “It’s no accident that _you_ ended up as the Queen of the Amazons, Hylla. Ambition earned you that position.”

 

“ _I_ earned my title.” The Queen snarled.

 

“Because you were ambitious enough to reach for it,” Percy repeated, “I’m not saying you don’t deserve it—gods know you make a phenomenal queen, but you had to want to be the person you are. Humility didn’t get you there.”

 

“You’re… right, annoyingly,” she said, before pausing. “When did you get an accent? You sound like someone from New York.”

 

“I _am_ from New York,” he laughed, “Arion noticed my accent, told me I should stop suppressing it. I decided to follow his advice. I’ve lived the past eleven years of my life acting like a proper Roman, speaking like a proper person, and pretending to be something I’m not. Why should I do that? I am who I am, and no one should make me change that.”

 

“And what have you been pretending to be, Percy?” Hylla asked, genuinely curious.

 

“I’ve been a good soldier, and a good leader,” he said, “but I’ve never been an exceptionally powerful demigod. That honour always belonged to Jason. The Son of Jupiter. The Pride of the Legion. Sure, they caught a glimpse of it at Orthys, but they don’t understand just how much control I have. What I can do. Hopefully they never will, but my hopes amount to exactly nothing where the Fates are involved.”

 

“I saw you destroy that gate,” Hylla said, “That jet of water should’ve pulverised your body, shredded the skin off your bones. You didn’t so much as blink or budge. Was it even difficult for you?”

 

“Not as much as it would’ve been several years ago,” he admitted, “and harder than it will be tomorrow. It’s like training a muscle.”

 

“I see,” Hylla said, but Percy knew she couldn’t really understand. Children of Bellona had their own power, Telumkinesis, which gave them an unprecedented ability to learn how to wield any weapon at an astounding rate. Jason was maybe the only person who would understand what Percy could do, and even then, it would be different in his own way. “When will you return to New Rome?”

 

“Tomorrow,” he answered, “I need to sleep before travelling, and I don’t think Blackjack particularly cares to go flying in the middle of the night.”

 

“I’ll show you where the guest room is,” Hylla offered, leading him to a not-too-small but not-too-large room, with a single bed in the middle.

 

Percy gave her a smile in thank before collapsing face first onto the bed. His vision went black almost immediately, and after what felt like an eternity, he found himself standing in the middle of a temple, a fire burning in the centre, being tended to by a middle-aged woman. Beside her stood another, garbed in black, wearing a goat-skin as a shawl. Percy sighed, and both women turned to face him.

 

“You do not seem happy to see me again, Perseus,” Juno noted.

 

“That would be because he suspects you of kidnapping his cousin,” the other goddess, who, looking at him with flame filled eyes, could only be Vesta. “I told you he was a smart one.”

 

“Yes, Vesta, I’m well aware how fond you are of Perseus,” Juno grumbled, “every seems to like him a lot. Even _Bacchus_ admires him in his own way.”

 

“Forgive me, my ladies, but why am I here?” He asked them. “Either I was expected, or I wasn’t, and I somehow managed to intrude here.”

 

“Yes, well, we weren’t _certain_ that you would come,” Juno told him, “but we were hoping you would. We need to have a discussion, Perseus.”

 

“I’m yours to command,” he said automatically.

 

“Yes, we’re aware of that,” Vesta smiled warmly at him, “but you do not need to serve us, not yet. For now, you need to serve Rome, as you have always served it.”

 

“My lady?”

 

“It will take time, but you’ll come to understand why Jason had to be taken,” Vesta continued, “and until then, you _cannot_ become Praetor, Perseus. Remain as the _Primus Pilus_. Lead your cohort, but keep the position open. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“Understand, yes, we know,” Juno cut him off, “but you do not need to. Not yet. That said, the time for you to unveil the artefacts will come soon enough, young hero. I will come to you once more, when that time comes. Be ready for me, Perseus.”

 

And then Juno vanished is a burst of light, light so bright he had to turn away. He was left with Vesta, who was studying him closely.

 

“Of all my nephews, you resemble your father the most, Perseus,” she told him, “not just in looks, but in spirit as well. You have the same desire to do good. To be the one that can be relied on. Your father loves you dearly, did you know?”

 

“I’m aware of the sacrifice he made for me,” Percy nodded, swallowing down _something_.

 

“He would not have done it for anyone else, Perseus,” Vesta said, “not even for Triton, his son and heir. _You_ are Neptune’s weakness, and his strength. When you prosper, he prospers. When you hurt, he hurts with you. He is the happiest after you have visited his shrine. My hope is that one day, while you live, Jupiter will lift the ban he placed, if only so that you may talk to your father one last time.”

 

“Those are kind words, my lady,” he said earnestly, “I appreciate them very much.”

 

“You will do great things, Perseus,” Vesta was no longer looking at him, instead her gaze was locked on the hearth. “You will be a great catalyst for change, and you will make Rome greater than it has ever been before. Greater even than the days of the Empire.”

 

Percy was about to answer when he jolted awake, an alarm going off beside him. The clock read _11:30_ , and he groaned. He had slept far later than he wanted to. He needed to get back to New Rome. Back to Reyna.

 

**XXX**

He arrived right as a trial was coming to an end. Michael was seated on a tribunal of Centurions, but immediately ceded his seat to Percy when he entered the Senate House. It didn’t escape Percy’s notice that the legionary in question was flanked by two members of the First, both of them large and strong sons of Bellona. Even if they couldn’t be armed, they were no idle threat.

 

“ _Primus Pilus,_ thank you for joining us,” Reyna said, “I trust your mission was a success?”

 

“Both of them were, yes,” he nodded, “the Amazons extend their gratitude for allowing me to assist them and reiterate the bonds of friendship that has been forged between our people and theirs. May I ask what is going on?”

 

“This is Bryce Lawrence,” Leila told him, clearly the prosecutor for this case, “the one who organised the attempt of Praetor Reyna’s life.”

 

“Is that so?” Percy asked, leaning forward.

 

“He also tried to kill Gwen, when we went to arrest him,” Michael added from behind. “A necromancer.”

 

“Has he been sentenced?”

 

“Yes,” Reyna said, “exile from New Rome, and dishonourable discharge from the Legion. His tattoo will be burned off, and his records expunged from our honour rolls. His family’s name will be struck from our records, and his memory forgotten.”

 

“ _Damnatio Memoriae_ ,” Bryce whispered, “a fate worse than death.”

 

“That’s because I was not allowed to hunt you,” Percy growled, thunder rumbling in the skies above. “And you should consider _Damnatio Memoriae_ a blessing compared to what I would’ve done to you,” he rose from his seat and walked down, right in front of Bryce and stared at him, _hard_ , “I learned many things from my stepmother, the Lady Salacia, and from Lupa. Interrogation techniques were among them. As a Son of Neptune, I can do things most interrogators only wish they could. You really don’t know how lucky you are, Bryce. But I’m not letting you leave without a present.”

 

“Percy?” He heard Reyna call out cautiously.

 

Percy slammed his fist into Bryce’s nose, relishing the feeling of it breaking under the impact.

 

“Percy!” Leila cried out.

 

“Forgive me, Praetor,” Percy said, “I felt it was necessary.”

 

“Just… don’t do it again,” Reyna sighed, “now escort this waste of life to the tunnel, and make sure he doesn’t come back.”

 

The two legionaries from his cohort grabbed Bryce by the arms, dragging him out of the Senate House.

 

“Centurion Jackson,” A senator called out. Percy turned and met her stare. “That was a very stupid thing to do… that said, it was entirely understandable, and I only wish you had hit him harder.”

 

Percy responded with a feral grin that made the senator and those around her flinch.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emergency session of the senate is called, Michael Kahale goes looking for Percy.

**Chapter Three**

**_Michael_ **

****

Something had changed in Percy since he had come back from his mission to the Amazons, that much was plain to see. Whereas before he had searched for Jason day and night, he now spent that time at the posts, working on his swordsmanship, leading the cohort through training exercises, or in Senate Meetings. When he wasn’t doing any of that, he often vanished into the mountains surrounding New Rome. Michael had heard rumours that Jason had a little shrine to his father up there, overlooking the Field of Mars. If it were true, it would be surprising, to say the least. Percy had told him more than once that being high up off the ground wasn’t always a pleasant experience for him.

 

That being said, his friend was needed for an emergency meeting of the Senate, called into session by Lupa herself. That meant that he found himself following a narrow trail that wound around the cove, finally ending up on a small ridge, where, as rumoured, there was a small shrine to Jupiter. It wasn’t much, a gilded figurine of the King of the Gods sheltered by a wood and stone housing, but it said enough about Jason that he would build a place where he could privately commune with his father. Michael could respect that.

 

Percy was a little further past the shrine, leaning against a boulder and staring at New Rome.

 

“I only started coming here a few days ago,” Percy told him, rising from his spot on the ground, “and I can honestly say I can see why Jason would come here when he needed to retreat. The river is familiar, comforting, but this? This is a _reminder_. I see what I fight for, and it brings me hope. What do you see, Michael?”

 

“Do you want an answer, or are you just speaking aloud?” he asked. Percy grinned at him and waved him onwards. “I see power. The power of Rome, of the Legion.”

 

“Power,” Percy sighed, “what an interesting concept. You’ve heard the saying, ‘power corrupts,’ of course. But that is not the truth of it. Power is always dangerous, Michael. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best. I did not ask for power. I never wanted it. I have only ever wanted to serve, and yet every time I _do_ serve, I end up with more than what I started with. That’s a cause for concern, don’t you think?”

 

“Perhaps for the unambitious,” Michael conceded, “and while I’d love to continue this debate, sir, there’s an emergency session of the Senate that the Lady Lupa has called.”

 

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Percy laughed, before whistling loudly, “I hope you don’t mind getting cosy, because I’ve only got Blackjack com—never mind that, he brought a friend.”

 

Percy’s large black Pegasus came to a running halt next to him, and he wasn’t alone. There was a pure white Pegasus with him, that seemed to look him up and down before neighing. Whatever it was the animal was thinking, it made Percy laugh.

 

“Michael, this is Guido,” he introduced, “now hop on, because we’ve got a meeting to attend.”

 

“Percy, I’m not sure about—”

 

“Do I need to make it an order, _optio_?” Percy’s grin was infectious, and Michael found himself simultaneously smiling and cursing as he held onto Guido, who cut through the air with ease, right beside Percy and Blackjack.

 

They landed just outside the Pomerian Line, and Michael needed a moment to regain his balance. Percy, who never seemed to lose _his_ , helped steady him, before they crossed over. Michael handed his gladius and pugio over to Terminus, while Percy, who was unarmed, simply crossed over, ruffling Julia’s hair as he did so. The little girl beamed a smile at him, and he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, before they continued on their way.

 

They were met by Hank and his Optio, Nathan South, a son of Mars, at the doors of the Senate House.

 

“You know what this is about?” Percy asked. The Centurion of the Third shook his head.

 

“Not a clue,” he admitted, “but that Lupa called it means it’s something serious, at the very least. Octavian checked the records—the last time Lupa summoned the Senate was when the Second World War broke out.”

 

“Gods of Olympus,” Michael swore under his breath, and Nathan gave him a sympathetic look.

 

“Gods of Olympus indeed,” Percy replied, before strolling through the door, taking his seat next to Larry. Michael positioned himself behind Percy and surveyed the room.

 

The Senators were, like everyone else, in the dark about why they had been summoned, but no one dared speak with Lupa dominating the centre of the floor, larger than any wolf had a right to be. Reyna was seated in her seat on the dais, Jason’s own chair empty. Only once everyone was settled did Lupa speak.

 

“ _There are tidings from Olympus,_ ” the wolf-goddess growled, “ _unfortunately, war is coming again. The enemy is an old and ancient threat, one that took the greatest heroes of their time to defeat, one that took working_ with _the gods. Terra, and her Giants, have risen once more, and will make war on Olympus._ ”

 

There was a hushed murmur around the room, and Michael felt a shiver go through him as he took in the words. Everyone was pale, but Percy sat ramrod, almost as if he had expected the news. Lupa, however, didn’t care for their discomfort, and continued speaking.

 

“ _The war will be nothing like the Titan War. Terra controls the earth itself, and few places are safe from her wrath,_ ” Lupa explained, “ _New Rome is safe—the magics here are powerful, weaved only by the most skilled gods._ _That said, the legion must drill for war. Recruitment must increase, and…it is my suggestion that walls be built around the city, following the Pomerian Line. Or rather, just outside it, so that armed guards may stand guard._ ”

 

“Forgive me, Lady Lupa, but shouldn’t the mountains serve as the walls of our city?” Leila asked from Michael’s left.

 

“The mountains only serve as a natural barrier,” Percy spoke for the first time, his voice silencing the few who were whispering, “but we cannot station troops in the mountains and expect them to repel any assault. Walls around the city can be taken down once the threat. Or they can be built permanently and expanded as time goes on.”

 

“You have a proposal, I assume, Primus Pilus Jackson?” A senator, one Veronica Mason, a daughter of Venus, asked with a knowing look. Michael didn’t fail to notice the way that Reyna’s eyes narrowed at the Senator, nor how Lupa cocked her head slightly to the side.

 

“Rome was surrounded by walls,” Percy said simply, “the Servian and Aurelian Walls, in fact. We are, as you all know, surrounded by enchanted mountains. We quarry stone, but we would never be able to level the mountains. Building a wall would be a task the legion is well versed in, and should they be built properly, it would allow for us to have defensive measures in place that would increase the defensive capabilities of not just the legion, but the city itself.”

 

“ _The Primus Pilus speaks truly,_ ” Lupa stated, “ _but it is up to the Senate, and ultimately the Praetor, to make such a decision. I have said everything I came here to say. I leave the rest to you._ ”

 

With that, Lady Lupa prowled out of the Senate House, leaving them to their own devices. It was silent for a solid thirty seconds before people started calling out, and soon, the Senate was in uproar. Michael watched Percy through it all. His friend was leaning back, resting his chin on his right fist while his left hand idly strummed the arm-rest of his seat. Even the other Centurions were debating with each other. Only Reyna was holding her composure, but that was because she, like Michael, was studying Percy.

 

“Michael,” Percy’s voice was soft, but he still somehow heard him, “what was our operational strength, at last count?”

 

“We have fifty-seven legionaries and eight probatio’s in our cohort,” he reported automatically. He had no doubt that Percy _knew_ that, but he obeyed without question.

 

“How far along are the probies?”

 

“Most of them have been in the cohort for less than three months, and none of them have done anything to indicate they might earn their tattoo any time soon,” Michael said, “though one of them, a son of Bellona named Kyle Patterson, shows promise. A bit arrogant for my taste, thinks that because the current Praetor is another child of Bellona that he and his siblings are due special dispensation.”

 

“Why haven’t I heard of him before, then?” Percy turned to face him, a frown on his face.

 

“As your _optio_ , I handle most of the minor issues for you,” Michael reminded him, “this isn’t an issue large enough for you to worry about. I’ve already reprimanded him once, but he still keeps talking in private, from what I’ve heard.”

 

“I’ll deal with him later, then,” Percy said, before rising and making his way over to Reyna.

 

He waited at the foot of the dais, some of the ruckus dying down as he walked, but most of the arguments and debates ongoing. Reyna motioned him to her with a gentle roll of her wrist, and he climbed the steps, leaning over and whispering in her ear. Michael didn’t know what Percy said, but Reyna shot him a surprised glance, before nodding and waving him away.

 

“What was that about?” Larry asked when Percy returned, but the son of Neptune simply tipped his head towards Reyna, who had risen from her seat.

 

“Enough!” She called out, and the noise died immediately. All eyes were on her, and many of those present looked anxious at whatever she was about to tell them. “The Legion will begin consulting our architects and engineers about the best way to go about constructing a wall around the city. Once we have reached a consensus on how such a fortification would be built, we will present it to the Senate. This emergency session of the Senate is now over, but we will reconvene in one week so that I may present an update on the situation at hand. Until then, pray to the gods, and continue with your responsibilities. That is all. You are dismissed.”

 

Percy and Michael were the first ones out of the building, and he was surprised with the speed Percy took back to the First’s Castra. Once they were inside, the legionaries and probatio’s saluted him, which he waved off.

 

“Go get Probatio Patterson,” Percy ordered quietly, “bring him to me. Don’t let him ask any questions, and if he does, make sure he’s aware that he hasn’t earned his place in this cohort yet.”

 

“By your command, Centurion,” Michael nodded, before pivoting on his heel. Patterson hadn’t been with those at the posts, which meant he was going to be talking to the others, most likely in the armoury, or the baths.

 

It was the latter. Patterson was surrounded by nearly a dozen of his siblings, mostly younger ones, who were listening to every word he said with fervour. He found Aidan, the _optio_ of the Fourth, leaning against a pillar shaking his head.

 

“I swear, these kids think they know what fighting in a war is like because of their training with Lupa,” he said to Michael, “they know nothing. This brother of mine is a braggart, and I’m ashamed of that.”

 

“He’s got a meeting with Percy,” Michael said in a low voice, “so let’s see how long that lasts.”

 

Aidan snorted, but let him pass.

 

“ _Probatio_ Patterson,” Michael called out, interrupting his speech about how the children of Bellona would usher the legion into a new era. “Come with me.”

 

“May I ask why, sir?” he replied. Michael hardened his face.

 

“No, you may not, _probatio_ ,” he snapped. “In case you have forgotten, I am the Optio of the First Cohort, second to the _Primus Pilus_ himself, and even more simply, I am a legionary whereas you are still not. You will obey without question or you will find yourself on latrine duty until you earn your tattoo, do you understand?”

 

“I, uh, yes sir,” Kyle breathed out. He had taken his first reprimand with impassion, but now, humiliated in front of his siblings, he was clearly affected. “Forgive me, Optio.”

 

“I’m not your biggest concern right now, Probie,” he said loudly, “the Primus Pilus wants a word. I’d be on your best behaviour if I were you. Stow the attitude and get ready to meet with your superior officer.”

 

“Ye-yes sir!” Patterson replied. Michael wanted to feel a twinge of sympathy for him, but he had just about had it with the young teen. The son of Bellona followed him quietly, drawing stares from those who they passed on their way to Percy’s office. When they arrived, Percy was reading through the discipline file that detailed every punishment, reprimand, and complaint filed against anyone in the cohort.

 

“Centurion Jackson,” Michael called out as they entered, “Probatio Patterson, as ordered.”

 

He went to take leave, but Percy called out to stop him.

 

“Come back,” he ordered, “close the door behind you. I don’t want anyone listening in.”

 

“Yes sir,” Michael replied.

 

“Take a seat, Probatio,” Percy instructed. Patterson took the seat, and Michael, at Percy’s signal, moved to stand beside his centurion. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone through the discipline book, so forgive me for not knowing about you sooner.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“I have to admit,” Percy said, “I’m slightly impressed.”

 

Patterson looked hopeful for all of ten seconds.

 

“I’ve met some arrogant legionaries in my time, but _boy_ do you take the cake,” Percy continued, “one reprimand, but you have _seventeen_ complaints filed against you by members of this cohort and others. You’ve been in the First since after Orthys, and you’ve racked up more complaints in that time than Octavian did in nearly five years. Let’s read some of these, shall we? ‘ _Probatio_ Patterson informed me that, since a daughter of Bellona was the Praetor, it was a clear sign that the leadership of the First Cohort, and the others, should “naturally fall to her siblings.”’ That’s a rather stupid thing to say. What else do we have here… ah! This is a good one. ‘ _Probatio_ Patterson claimed that I had laid an insult against the Praetor and challenged me to a duel on her behalf.’ There’s four of those, so at least you’re not being idle.”

 

“Sir—” Patterson tried. It was the wrong move.

 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak!” Percy roared, which was accompanied by an earth-shattering clap of thunder. Patterson plastered himself back into his seat, face white as snow. “The point is, Probatio, that you’re on thin ice. The First is not a Cohort of braggarts and bullies, it is the best of the best. I’m not a cruel leader, but I am firm. You’ve been reprimanded once already. This is number two. There will not be a third. I’ll be watching you closely. Keep your mouth shut, obey orders, and for the love of the gods, _don’t_ start any fights. Should you do any of the above, you’ll be booted out of the First. Perhaps I’ll let Centurion Gwen of the Fifth deal with you?”

 

Patterson didn’t reply, and Percy nodded to himself.

 

“You understand me then, good,” he said, “so now that you understand your position, let me explain something to you. Children of Bellona are, by nature, good warriors. That does not make them good officers. Your half-sister, Reyna, is an _exceptionally_ talented leader, both tactically and politically. I can give you the names of a dozen other of your siblings who I wouldn’t trust to lead a pile of rocks. You’re not special. You’re not entitled to anything. If you want to lead, _prove_ that you’re deserving of the honour. Don’t try to create a personality cult around your mother. Don’t try to make yourself out to be some spokesperson for the gods. Be a soldier or get the hell out of my cohort. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir,” Patterson whispered.

 

“Good. Let yourself out.”

 

Patterson practically bolted out of the room, and Percy leaned back in his seat, sighing loudly.

 

“I’m not going to lie, Perce, but that was way more than I expected,” Michael admitted.

 

“I know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was plan on being strict but fair, but then I read his file. The kid has ego issues that needed to be shut down, and fast. Besides, do you think he’s going to continue acting out after that?”

 

“Gods no!” Michael exclaimed, “the poor guy nearly pissed himself!”

 

“Exactly,” Percy said with another deep sigh, “things are going to start picking up soon, Michael. We’re probably going to get another influx of recruits soon, and now that we’re planning a defensive wall around the city, we’ve got to consider how that’ll work.”

 

“ _More_ recruits?” he frowned, “we’ll need to pick more instructors, then. How many should we be expecting?”

 

“I don’t know,” Percy admitted, “but my guess is that over the next five or six months, we should expect to get back up to full strength.”

 

“Do we… do we even have enough people for that?” he asked, “Lupa does what she can, but…”

 

“There are more demigods out there than you think,” Percy told him, “and my guess is that over time, more and more of them will end up here. The gods want us to fight another war, so they’ll ensure that we’re well prepared for it when it finally arrives.”

 

“I’ll begin poking around with some of the veterans, see who’s open to becoming an instructor when the time comes.”

 

“Try Marcus Fox,” Percy offered, “I’ve seen him giving out pointers to some of the new legionaries. I think he’d be up to it.”

 

Of course Percy already had people in mind. Michael gave him a slight grin.

 

“Anyone else?”

 

“Lucy Dresden and Isaac McGee,” his centurion told him, “other than those three, I can’t really think of anyone else at the moment. Just float the idea, see how they react, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, got it,” Michael leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. “Need anything else from me?”

 

“Nothing important,” Percy shrugged, “I’d suggest that you get ready for a hectic senate meeting next week. Everyone’s going to be in a flurry of activity.”

 

**XXX**

 

“We need at least thirty yards of open ground behind the walls,” Gregory Wulf, their most senior engineer, was telling the Senate, “this ensures that if there are any projectiles thrown over, there’s less of a chance that any buildings will be damaged. Ideally, we’d have at one hundred, though that does increase the size of the walls, and how much land it covers.”

 

“And, at the current configuration, with thirty yards of open ground, how long do you predict this wall needing?” Daniel Voss, a senator, and former legionary asked with a frown.

 

“Including the time to quarry all the stone, and gather other materials?” Greg shrugged, “between eight and nine months. The legion can serve as a work force, and we have items that will make it easier for us to build the walls, but it is still a large project.”

 

“And what if they aren’t ready when the war comes to us?” Another senator asked, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

 

“Some wall is still better than _no_ wall,” Hank pointed out, “ Even if it’s only a few feet high, it still gives you an advantage over any attackers.”

 

“The centurion is correct,” Greg nodded in satisfaction, “I have given the Praetor my full report, based on the surveys of my team, and leave the decision to her. If you’ll excuse me, Senators, I have work to do.”

 

“You’re dismissed, Gregory,” Reyna said with a tip of her head, “thank you for stopping by.”

 

“As you can see,” the Praetor continued, “these estimates are rather good. We can begin construction of a perimeter wall in a month and a half if we begin preparations today. I’m inclined to approve such a measure as is, but if any wish to present a counter argument as to why a wall should _not_ be built, now would be the time to do it. Any takers?”

 

“Praetor,” Daniel Voss rose, “as much as I wish to support such an action, I have to ask—the creation of defensive walls around New Rome seems to indicate that the legion alone won’t be enough to protect the city should a large enough threat arise. That seems rather alarming.”

 

Michael remembered Voss well enough—he was five years older than him and had mustered out of the Legion a year before Orthys, before anyone knew of the war that was coming. A solid man, and a true Roman, it still rankled Michael to hear someone speak of the Legion so. Judging from the way some of the other Optios shifted, he wasn’t the only one. Only the Praetor and the Centurion’s, who by now had learned to cover their emotions well, were still.

 

“That’s a valid point, Senator,” Reyna conceded, “but we need to acknowledge the truth. The Legion is powerful, and it is very skilled, but we are barely over two hundred and seventy legionaries. We don’t _have_ the manpower to effectively defend New Rome as it is. Unless you can somehow find me nearly eight hundred new legionaries, the truth is that defensive walls are our best option.”

 

Daniel was silent for a moment before nodding.

 

“You are correct, Praetor,” he said, “I retract my statement. But I must pose this next question, then. Who mans the walls?”

 

“The Primus Pilus had an idea about that, actually,” Reyna stated, “Centurion Jackson?”

 

Percy rose to universal silence.

 

“As Senator Voss just pointed out,” he began, “the walls will need guards on them. The Legion, of course, could do so, but that would limit our ability to project our force. My suggestion is that any legionaries who retired in the past fifteen years be called back, on a _temporary_ basis, as a _urbana cohors,_ a city-guard, so to speak. It’s not re-joining the legion, but rather acting as a police force of sorts—patrolling the walls, manning checkpoints, et cetera.”

 

“And who would be placed in charge of this cohort? A member of the Legion?” Veronica Mason asked with a frown. Michael couldn’t blame her. That was a lot of power for a soldier to have, especially because it would need to be an officer, which really only meant three people who could handle it—Percy, Reyna, or Larry. The others simply couldn’t juggle two units. Reyna was technically dealing with five already.

 

“No, I was thinking a member of the Senate—a non-legionary senator, that is—could be voted into the position,” Percy said, “if you have a different suggestion…”

 

“That’s… rather well thought out, Primus Pilus,” Voss noted, “almost as if you had planned something like this in advance.”

 

“Something along those lines,” Percy shrugged, “I’ve several suggestions for improving the structure and safety of New Rome, but until they’re needed, they’ll not be brought up. In this case, this particular idea would be beneficial, which is why I mentioned it. If it had no bearing, I wouldn’t have brought it up at all.”

 

As he spoke, Percy drifted more and more into his rough Manhattan drawl, a sign he was becoming agitated. It used to only happen when he was mad, but lately, the accent had been slipping in more often, and normally without any reason. Almost as if he were slowly acclimating everyone else to it. There was a chance that was exactly what he was doing, and Michael was only just noticing it. That was more than possible.

 

“Watch your tone, Centurion,” Reyna warned wearily, but Voss shook his head.

 

“No need, Praetor, the Primus Pilus made a valid point,” Daniel assured her, “and I can understand why he would get short with me. Which actually brings me to my next point—The empty seat of Praetor Grace needs to be filled.”

 

“Absolutely not!” Percy snapped, shooting to his feet. Surprised glances were exchanged by everyone present, and even Reyna seemed taken aback by the outburst. “Praetor Grace has been kidnapped by some powerful force, and until we are absolutely, one hundred percent certain that he cannot be returned to us, his seat should remain waiting for him.”

 

“Respectfully, Centurion Jackson,” Octavian began slowly, flinching at the glare that Percy shot him but not backing down, “traditionally, we have always had two Praetors, and—”

 

“We _have_ two praetors,” Percy cut him off sharply, and although Michael was behind him, he could see just how taut Percy was. It was like he was physically holding himself back from exploding at… well, at anybody. “Just because one is missing does not mean we do not have one.”

 

“Let’s just calm down, Percy,” Leila said from his left, moving closer and placing a hand on his arm, “breathe. They’re not the enemy. Breathe.”

 

Percy let out a growl that would make Lupa proud before he pivoted and stormed out of the Senate House. There was a terrified silence left in his wake that was only broken by Reyna’s deep sigh.

 

“Optio Kahale, please make sure your centurion doesn’t destroy anything,” she ordered, “as for everyone else, although he was dramatic about it,” Michael swore he heard an _as always_ under Reyna’s breath, “the Primus Pilus is correct. Despite his absence, Praetor Grace is _still_ Praetor, and until I have any reason to believe that he cannot discharge his duties, or return to them in the proper time, his seat will remain exactly that— _his_. This is not a matter up for discussions, Senators, but simple facts. There will be no debate, am I understood?”

 

Michael didn’t hear any response, because he was out looking for Percy. It didn’t take much to follow him, considering how many people were streaming the opposite direction. That always meant that either Percy or Jason was angry, and considering the Son of Jupiter was still missing, it left him one option. He weaved his way through the throng of civilians, past the Pomerian Line, past the barracks and the river, and back up the mountain.

 

By the time he reached the bluff that Jason had built his shrine on, he was breathing heavy. He had essentially jogged from the middle of the city to the outskirts of the cove. That was tiring for any person, demigod endurance or not. Percy, naturally, didn’t seem phased in the slightest. His friend was still growling under his breath and prowling back and forth. Michael just stood patiently outside of his path, flinching when the Son of Neptune punched the rock-face beside him. He had expected to hear bone breaking. He had not expected the rock to break first. A small impact crater where Percy’s fist had landed was the only sign of what he had just witnessed. Half a dozen more followed, and that was when Percy let out a grunt of pain. The fact that it took him seven blows against solid stone to break his hand scared Michael more than it impressed him. If this was the kind of pain Percy was able to tolerate, who knew what he could do.

 

“I think you just broke your hand, man,” he added helpfully. Percy just turned to him with a glossy look in his eyes that sent an alarm bell down his body. He had seen that before in some of the veterans of Orthys, those who had to be let go because of the trauma they suffered, and witnessed, during the battle. But just as quickly as it was there was it gone, replaced with Percy’s usual sea-green gaze.

 

“I came to that conclusion myself, actually,” Percy muttered in annoyance, “gimme a second.”

 

Michael blinked as water began pulling itself from the air, forming a bubble around Percy’s hand. It stayed there for several minutes, gradually shrinking as the liquid was absorbed into Percy’s body. When it was gone, there was only slight bruising on his knuckles, and while his hand flexed with some stiffness, it was clearly no longer broken.

 

“The fact that you can do that is insanely unfair, Perce,” Michael told him honestly, “what is it with you Big Three kids getting all the cool stuff?”

 

“Like scars and getting abducted?” Percy asked rhetorically, and he had to concede that point to him. “Listen, Mikey, I don’t give a rats-ass about the Senate, they can do what they want, but if they _ever_ bring up dumping Jason like that again, I will get very, _very_ angry. I’d like you to convey that to them at the next Senate meeting we have. Which I will _not_ be at. Am I understood?”

 

“Sure, as long as I’m not the one who has to tell Reyna.”

 

“She’ll understand,” Percy waved his concerns off, “and if she doesn’t, then that’s something I’ll fix myself. But I will not be at the next Senate meeting.”

 

“Dude, not going to lie, I think you’re underestimating just how much of your shit that Reyna is willing to deal with,” Michael admitted, “yeah, she’s your girlfriend, so she’s more understanding than most, but Percy, she’s also your _superior officer_ , and I think you haven’t quite wrapped your head around what that means. You can’t just go flaunting her authority because you think your relationship gives you a pass. That would be… that would be like _Leila_ ditching a wargame between our cohorts because she thought that you would forgive her eventually—maybe it’s true, but it’s still an abuse of your relationship.”

 

Percy blinked several times as he processed Michael’s words. His own were not inspiring.

 

“Well. Shit.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper and crew arrive at the Wolf House to rescue Hera. They reunite with Thalia, and meet a new, mysterious figure.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or the Heroes of Olympus books, even though I lifted more than some of the writing from the Lost Hero.

**Chapter Four**

**_Piper_ **

****

Piper had done some cool stuff before. She had also done stupid stuff before. She had done some of both more than she’d have liked the past few days with Jason and Leo but jumping out of a helicopter before it was crashed by a freak snowstorm was easily both the coolest _and_ stupidest thing she had done, _period_.

 

She could hear fighting all around them, and from out of nowhere, Thalia emerged from the swirling snow, her quiver nearly empty, her bow held loosely in her left hand.

 

“Good timing, guys,” she said, “though, to be honest, it’s getting a little chilly out here.”

 

“Look out!” Leo cried out, but Thalia had already launched herself upwards and, while upside down, drew, nocked, and fired an arrow in between the eyes of the ogre that had been trying to sneak up on her.

 

She landed softly and stalked over to the pile of clay that the monster had dissolved into, yanking her arrow out. The head had snapped off, and she cursed.

 

“Come on. Hera’s inside and… there’s someone here you’ll want to meet. I actually want to meet him too, because frankly, I have no idea who he is or how he knew to be here, but he’s been fairly useful, so I won’t kill him yet.”

 

“He?” Jason muttered with a frown, following Thalia into the ruined mansion he had called the ‘Wolf House,’ before almost immediately collapsing. Leo grabbed him and pulled him upright.

 

“Hey man, none of that,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

 

Piper listened silently as Jason explained, only speaking to confirm that he had been in this place before. She didn’t say anything as Jason and Thalia had a quick exchange, and finally, they were led into an outdoor courtyard with a reflecting pool that, unsurprisingly given the state of the mansion, was empty and dilapidated. There were two spires made of rock and roots in it, both alike and different. She heard Leo mutter something about _body bags_ and couldn’t help but agree. The other was far more like a cage, and as they approached, she heard Leo’s breath hitch for a second.

 

“ _Hola, Tia_ ,” her friend greeted with his usual cheer, “little bit of trouble?”

 

“Don’t inspect me like I’m one of your machines, Leo Valdez!” Hera exclaimed with her arms crossed like a petulant child, “Get me out of here!”

 

Thalia, a scowl now set on her face, stepped forward.

 

“We tried everything we could think of, Leo,” she explained, “but maybe my heart wasn’t just in it. If it were up to me, I’d just leave her in there.”

 

“Are all of you so disrespectful to Gods?” A new voice, slightly metallic, asked. They all whirled in surprise with the exception of Thalia, who just gave a sigh of annoyance. Beside her, Jason took a tentative step forwards towards the figure across from them.

 

He was tall, _very_ tall, but some of that came from the helmet he was wearing, which reminded her of the ones the extras who played Romans in her father’s _Spartacus_ movie wore, only this one had a faceplate, and a horizontal crest made up of five dagger-like points. It almost looked like a rising sun. He also wore a set of armour that was forged beautifully. An armoured breastplate was dominated by a wolf in the centre, with two sphinxes below it on his ribs. He wore combat pants and tall greaves, and had pauldrons formed in the visage of snarling wolves.

 

“Dude, are you obsessed with wolves or something?” Leo asked the question she had desperately wanted to. But he ignored them, instead staring at Jason.

 

“You’ve gotten taller,” the warrior noted, before cocking his head to the side. “You know who I am?”

 

“I…I think so?” Jason sounded unsure. “Like, I don’t know _who_ you are, but you’re familiar to me. You’re… safe is the word that comes to mind, but honestly _family_ feels better.”

 

Thalia let out a slight gasp and the armoured man nodded.

 

“You’ll remember more later,” he said, “Juno explained what she did. Why she did it. And when you _do_ remember me, I want you to know that I never gave up on you. I still haven’t. This is _your_ time, Jason. This is what you were born for.”

 

“Who the Hades are you?” Thalia demanded, “are you the one who raised him? Do you think you’re some kind of _father_ to him?”

 

“Thalia, sis, hey,” Jason said, “maybe you should go help your hunters? Let us handle this?”

 

Thalia growled at the man, who remained unfazed, and stalked out of the house.

 

“I’m sorry about her, but—” Jason began, but the man lifted a hand to cut him off.

 

“I get it,” he said, “but enough of this. You guys need to focus on getting Juno out of this cage. I’ll go help Sparky the Huntress with the monsters outside.”

 

“Leo, this is your show,” Jason said, firmly back in charge. The warrior began making his way towards the door Thalia had left through before pausing. He didn’t exit it, instead peeling off into a hallway. Why, Piper had no idea, but she barely had time to think about it because Leo was asking for her help.

 

“…And we’re going to need time,” he finished saying as she snapped her attention back to him.

 

Almost immediately, the air became freezing, and Piper felt her lips crack as the moisture on them froze, and her breath became misty. Frost coated the walls of the mansion, and six _venti_ stormed into the courtyard, followed by wolves and Earthborn. Piper drew her dagger, while Jason pulled a board from the ground, and Leo fumbled with a hammer.

 

One of the wolves padded forward, a…statue? Yes, an ice sculpture in its maw, which it promptly dropped in front of them. It was a girl, a bow held in her hand, mouth open in a wordless cry and spiky hair.

 

“Thalia!” Jason cried out as he started to move forward, but Piper and Leo reacted as one, holding him back. The ground where Thalia had been dropped had become icy, and they didn’t want the same thing to happen to him. “Who did this? I’ll kill you myself!”

 

She really shouldn’t have been surprised by then cold laughter, followed by Khione passing through the ranks of monsters.

 

“ _Bon soir, mesa mis,_ ” the goddess gave them a frosty smile, “alas, son of Hephaestus, you say you need time? I’m afraid time is one tool you do not have.”

 

“What’ve you done?” Jason asked slowly, as if he was restraining himself from leaping at the goddess.

 

“Oh, _so_ many things,” Khione purred. Piper already wanted to punch her. She tuned out her gloating as she noticed a dark figure moving around in the shadows, and she got a brief glint of silver before it was gone again.

 

“Traitor!” Hera yelled at the goddess, “you meddlesome, D-list goddess! You aren’t worthy to poor my wine, let alone rule the world!”

 

As far as insults went, Piper had to admit that was a pretty good one. Khione just sighed and waved her hand, ice filling in the gaps in the cage, muffling Hera’s curses.

 

“That’s better,” the snow goddess said, “Now, demigods, about your death—”

 

Jason cut her off, and the two had another exchange. Piper missed most of it as she saw the flash of silver again, this time above them, but just as quickly, it was gone. She forced herself to focus back on Khione and the monsters before they noticed she wasn’t paying them attention. She let out a growl she didn’t know she had in her when the snow goddess offered Leo companionship, and was more than relieved when he turned her down. When Khione launched a blast of sleet at them, Leo held up his hand, and a wall of fire erupted in front of them, creating a steamy cloud as the two met.

 

“See, lady, that’s what happens to snow in Texas,” Leo cackled, “It—freaking—melts.”

 

“Enough of this,” Khione waved dismissively, “Hera is failing, Porphyrion is rising. Kill the demigods and let them be our king’s first meal!”

 

“I always appreciated that about you evil gods,” Jason suddenly said, and Khione froze for a fraction of a second, “you’re so easily distracted.”

 

Then Piper understood. Jason had seen the movement too, but unlike her, he clearly knew what it meant, and had worked to ensure that the warrior could get into position. The monsters never stood a chance, because he leapt from the ruins of the second story, crashing into an Earthborn and sending it tumbling to the ground as he flicked his wrist. Several arrowheads, all a dull silver, impacted into the wolves, which howled in pain before dying. Then he drew his sword.

 

Piper had seen some inspiring weapons in Camp Half-Bloods armoury, but none of them, not even Katropis, had compared to the one this man carried. Its blade was as long as her arm from fingertips to shoulder, and it was made of a dark, menacing metal. Along the fuller she could make out a word. _Imperator_. Emperor.

 

Beside her, Jason thumped a wolf with his stick, while Piper got stuck into it with several of the Earthborn, dancing around them and attacking when she could. She saw Jason leap onto one of the _venti_ while the armoured man dealt with the other Earthborn, who had decided between her and him, he was the greater threat. She was left with only one to fight while the rest detached to fight this mysterious man. Part of her was insulted that she was considered lesser than this man, but as she finished off her own opponent, she turned to go to help him before realising he didn’t need it.

 

The warrior was unlike anything she had ever seen. He ducked under the strike of one of the Earthborn, flicking his sword to the right and launching it into the chest of another as he drew a dagger with his free hand and rammed it into the jaw of the monster, before diving towards his weapons, yanking it out of the monster it had impaled while it dissolved into mud. Now armed with a dagger _and_ a sword, he was somehow even more dangerous, a whirlwind of death, spinning around strikes, redirecting them with both blades and ending any of the monsters that got too close.

 

He finished the last Earthborn off by ramming his sword through its throat. Likewise, Khione fled from Leo, and the snowy double she left behind was smashed by his flaming hammers. Jason sat mounted on one of the _venti_ , a midnight-blue stallion that sparked electricity. The armoured warrior approached them after a moment of sifting through the monsters to make sure none remained.

 

“Are you a god?” The words escaped Piper’s mouth before she could help herself. The warrior was taken clearly taken aback by the question, a visible flinch telling her all she needed to know.

 

“No,” he said, and it took her a moment to realise he was _laughing_ under his helmet, “just the son of one. But we’ve got bigger problems. Like the King of the Giants rising out of the earth. Free Juno. Now.”

 

“What’re you going to—”

 

“We’re going to entertain a giant,” Jason said, turning to the man, “have we done this before?”

 

“Together? No,” the man said, “you were busy, last time. But this will make a _great_ story when you come back.”

 

That was the last Piper saw of him. While she and Leo worked on freeing Hera, Jason and this man had a back and forth with Porphyrion. She didn’t hear what the armoured man had said in response to the giant’s boasts, but Jason’s was loud and measured, like a thunderclap.

 

“I’m the Son of Jupiter!” He bellowed, rising off the ground, “I’m a child of Rome, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion. I slew the Chimaera! I toppled the Black Throne of Saturn! And now, I’m going to destroy you, Porphyrion, and feed you to your own wolves!”

 

“Wow, dude,” Leo muttered beside her, “You been eating red meat?”

 

That was when Jason launched himself at the giant.

 

**XXX**

“Jason!” She cried out. She kept repeating his name, holding his steaming body, while Thalia knelt beside her, a hand on his forehead. There was no sign of the armoured warrior from before. Where he had gone, she didn’t know. Maybe he was going for help…?

 

“Fix him!” Thalia demanded.

 

Piper tuned them out, focusing on Jason’s face, a hand on his chest as she listened, watched, _felt_ for any sign of life. Leo was involved now, but she couldn’t hear the words he was saying, only sounds. Then—

 

“He’s breathing!” She exclaimed. Hera hovered over her shoulder.

 

“Impossible,” the goddess declared, “I wish it were true, child, but no mortal has ever—”

 

“Jason,” she said, forcing as much power as she could into his name, “Listen to me. You can do this. Come back. You’re going to be fine.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Healing is not a power of Aphrodite,” Hera said softly, “even I cannot fix this, girl. His mortal spirit—”

 

“Jason,” she said again, feeling her voice, her _power_ , travel deep into the earth, and then further still. “ _Wake up!_ ”

 

Jason started with a gasp, eyes glowing gold, before returning to normal. He looked around, breathing heavily, and confusion clear in his eyes. “What—what happened?”

 

“Impossible!” Hera said for what felt like the umpteenth time. Piper didn’t notice, she was too busy holding Jason tightly in her arms and refused to let go.

 

“Crushing me,” he breathed, and she let him go. Thalia took her spot, holding Jason’s hand tightly.

 

“How do you feel?” She asked, looking him over.

 

Piper was too busy looking at Jason, back from the _freaking_ dead, and only intervened when Hera and Thalia seemed ready to come to blows. She somehow defused that situation, another to arise when Thalia asked Hera to see them safely back to Camp Half-Blood. The Huntress promised to meet them at Camp Half-Blood, and Hera prepared to whisk them away.

 

“Wait,” Jason said with a frown, but Hera wasn’t listening, “where’s—”

 

He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Her world went black, and she felt like she had been tumbled in a washing machine. When she could see straight again, she was standing in Drew’s pizza.

 

**XXX**

She found Jason at the top of the hill, a new Gladius in his hand as he ran a whetstone down it. Where he had gotten the weapon, she didn’t know, and she also knew that whetstones were useless on magical weapon. It was more likely to ruin the stone than anything else.

 

“It’s a habit I picked up in the Titan War from Percy,” he explained by way of greeting, “to help focus on something when my mind wanted to be racing at a hundred miles per hour. It helps keep me on the straight and narrow.”

 

“They’re waiting for you,” she said gently, “Annabeth is here, and she doesn’t look happy to have been drawn away from her search.”

 

“Lucky for her, I have the answers she needs,” Jason sighed, “let’s get moving then, I don’t want to them to get too anxious.”

 

He strolled down the hill, responding to calls from other campers with a nod of his head and a friendly smile. His face blanked when they entered the big house, and Chiron greeted them with a kind smile of his own.

 

“Well?” Annabeth demanded, “why am I here?”

 

“I regained my memory,” Jason said, “all of it. No gaps, no foggy memories, nothing. I remember it all. This is important, Annabeth, or I wouldn’t have asked you to come.”

 

“I’m sure it is,” the daughter of Athena drawled, “so please, for the love of Zeus get on with it.”

 

“When I was three, my mother took me to the Wolf House, in Sonoma, and left me there,” Jason explained, “it’s how all demigods like me learn about our world.”

 

“Like you,” Katie Gardiner noted, “but not _us_.”

 

“I’m not Greek,” Jason said simply, “I’m—”

 

“Roman,” Clarisse said, “am I wrong?”

 

“No,” Jason blinked, “how’d you know?”

 

“I’d like to know that too, actually,” Travis Stoll asked, “because I would’ve figured it from Annabeth, but…”

 

“That’s not important,” the aforementioned Annabeth snapped, “Roman gods? They’re just our gods with different names.”

 

“That’s… not accurate,” Jason said slowly, “we Romans are…well, drastically different from you. Our gods are similar, but not the same. More disciplined, warlike. Very united. More about expansion and conquest than life and liberty.”

 

“Sounds disgusting,” Travis muttered.

 

“And the Romans hated the Greeks,” Annabeth noted, “they took revenge when they conquered the Greek Isles and made them part of the Empire.”

 

“Not exactly _hated_ ,” Jason corrected, “the Romans admired Greek culture, and we were a little jealous. In return, the Greeks thought they were barbarians, but they respected their military power. So during the Empire, demigods began to split—either Greek or Roman.”

 

“And it’s been that way ever since,” Annabeth said. “But this is crazy. Chiron, where were the Romans during the Titan War? Didn’t they want to help?”

 

“They did help,” Chiron sighed, tugging his beard, “While all of you were fighting in Manhattan, who do you think conquered Mount Orthys, the Titan’s base in California?”

 

“Hold on a second, time out,” Travis said, putting his hands up in a ‘t’, “you said Orthys collapsed when we beat Kronos?”

 

“No,” Jason cut in, “it didn’t just fall—we destroyed their palace. Percy fought and killed Krios while I infiltrated the fortress.”

 

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his cousin, but she didn’t press on that.

 

“The Bay Area. We’re told not to travel there because of Mount Orthys, but that’s not the case, is it? The Roman camp, _your_ camp, has got to be nearby. I’d bet it was put there to watch the Titan’s territory. Where is it?”

 

“I cannot say,” Chiron shifted in his wheelchair, “Honestly, even _I_ have not been trusted with that information. My counterpart, Lupa, is not exactly the sharing type.”

 

Beside her, Jason snorted at the description.

 

“When the time comes, I’ll take you there,” Jason promised them, “but the camp is veiled with magic, and beyond that it’s heavily guarded. You could search for years and never find it.”

 

“But you’ll try, won’t you?” Rachel Dare asked, thrumming her fingers against each other, “you’ll build Leo’s ship, the _Argo II_ , and before you go to Greece, you’ll go to the Roman Camp. We’ll need their help, after all.”

 

“Bad plan,” Clarisse chimed in instantly, “If those Romans see you coming in a warship, they’ll assume you’re hostile.”

 

“You’re right,” Jason agreed, and Piper didn’t feel comforted at all by his words, “but we have to try. I was sent here to learn about Camp Half Blood, to try to convince you the two camps don’t have to be enemies. A peace offering.”

 

Piper didn’t like that. Peace offering meant that they were enemies to begin with. They hadn’t been for centuries. They were… well, they were _allies_ by necessity, but they could become more. They could become friends. She knew they could.

 

**_Jason_ **

 

Piper and Leo had been silent the entire time, the wheels in their heads turning.

 

“I’m going,” Annabeth said, “Jason, when you get the ship built, let me go with you.”

 

“I was hoping you’d offer,” he admitted, “You of all people—we’ll need you.”

 

“Wait, what? Why?” Leo asked, before stammering, “I’m cool with it, of course, but why Annabeth _of all people_?”

 

Jason glanced at Annabeth, who was studying him too. He knew she had figured it out, and she saw the truth for what it was.

 

“Hera said that my coming here was an exchange of leader,” he explained, “a way for the two camps to learn of each other’s existence.”

 

“And?”

 

“An exchange is two ways,” he said patiently, “when I got here, my memory was wiped. I didn’t know anything—who I was, where I belonged. But you all took me in, and I found a new home. I know you’re not the enemy. But my people, the Romans? Not so friendly. You prove your worth, or you die. They may not be so nice to her, and if they learn where she’s from, she’s going to be in serious trouble.”

 

“She?” Leo said. “Who are we talking about?”

 

“My girlfriend,” Annabeth said grimly, “she disappeared around the same time that Jason appeared—a little before, actually, so I think they were probably taken at the same time. If Jason came to Camp Half Blood—”

 

“Exactly,” Jason agreed. “Andromeda is at my camp, and she probably doesn’t remember who she is.”

 

**XXX**

They approached him later—Annabeth, Rachel, and Thalia, who had arrived late to the show. He was on the hill once more, leaning against he thick tree as he ran a whetstone down Juno’s Gladius. It was non-descript and simple, but truthfully, he preferred it to his old one. This was reliable. It was a sword and only a sword. He could work with that.

 

“What do you want to know?” He asked as they stood over him. He had known this was coming, ever since he had told them everything. It was only fair—in their place, he would’ve done the same thing.

 

“What’s it like?” Thalia asked. “Were they… were they good to you?”

 

“Better than some other got,” Jason shrugged, “I was almost regarded as royalty, being the son of Jupiter. Everyone was respectful, if not nice. I fought hard to earn my place, harder than I needed to, but it was nothing compared to Percy.”

 

“This is the second time you’ve mentioned this ‘Percy,’” Annabeth noted, “he’s someone important to you. Best friend? Boyfriend?”

 

“Cousin,” Jason said, “Percy is the only son of Neptune in New Rome. But he’s my best friend—more like a brother. You’ve met him, Thalia.”

 

“I have?” She frowned before blinking. “That douchebag at the Wolf House?”

 

“Yup,” Jason nodded, “though he’s not a douchebag.”  


“He called me disrespectful,” Thalia pointed out.

 

“You _were_ being disrespectful.”

 

“Well if it hadn’t been—”

 

“Neptune is Poseidon’s Roman form,” Annabeth interrupted the bantering, “Poseidon has a son? But the treaty…”

 

“I don’t know anything about a treaty,” Jason shrugged, “but Neptune very rarely has children. The last one died in World War Two, on Iwo Jima. The one before him was John Paul Jones. The fact that he had Percy so soon after his last son meant that he must’ve either been in love with Percy’s mother, or very, very attracted to her.”

 

“Fifty years is soon?” Rachel grimaced.

 

“What’s New Rome like?” Annabeth asked, “you said it’s heavily guarded. Who guards it?”

 

“The Twelfth Legion,” he answered, “descended from the _Legion XII Fulminata_ , we’re the heirs to Rome. New Rome is wherever we decide it is. The city works for us, not the other way around.”

 

“And what _is_ the city like?” Rachel asked.

 

“It’s… more of a town, actually,” he admitted, “only about eight thousand people live in in, not counting the Legion. In that regard we are—were, about three hundred and forty strong. Orthys hurt us badly, and we lost a lot of good people. The legion _may_ be close to three hundred now, especially if we’re pulling more legacies, which was something my co-Praetor and I had discussed.”

 

“This Percy _isn’t_ your co-Praetor?” Annabeth asked, “I’d have figured a son of Neptune would hold an important position?”

 

“The legion is based on merit, not blood,” Jason said, a bit sharply, “I was raised for destroying Saturn’s throne. My co-Praetor, Reyna, was elected by the legion for her leadership. That being said, Percy _does_ hold an important position— _Primus Pilus_. First File Centurion, the senior-most officer in the legion under the Praetors. He’s essentially the third in command.”

 

“Jeez, you guys are really hierarchical, aren’t you?” Thalia muttered.

 

“Like I said, Romans bleed discipline. It’s one of the first things Lupa teaches us,” Jason shrugged, “the Legion is exactly that—a Legion. Its structure hasn’t changed from the days of the empire, but it’s been adjusted to handle our smaller numbers. We have ranks, decorations, punishments, traditions and more. Its also now filled with veterans of a bloody war. I don’t doubt that you fought hard for Manhattan, but you were _defending_ it, which gave you an advantage we didn’t have. We attacked the fortress of the Titans. We’ll have more combat veterans in our Legion than green soldiers.”

 

“Is that how you see yourselves?” Rachel frowned, “soldiers? Just…parts of a machine?”

 

“We _are_ parts of a machine,” Jason stressed, “you have to understand that more than anything, Romans _serve_. How that service is displayed comes in different forms. The most common is the Legion itself. A few join the cults in charge of maintaining Temple Hill. Fewer become medics, doctors, and the such. Retired legionaries go to college, and either get jobs in the city or leave it to establish safe houses for demigods across the states.”

 

“College?” Annabeth blinked, “where do they go to _college_?”

 

“New Rome University,” he stated proudly, “We’ve only got about a thousand students, but they’re all ex-legionaries, as are the professors. Some of us have gone to high school—I mean, I’m not one of them, but others have—but for the most part, we haven’t, and get our basic education from the legion. The university gets that, so it’s designed to not only prepare us for the working world, but the world in general. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve actually never been to the campus.”

 

“You… you live long enough to go to college?” Annabeth said the words as if they were unbelievable.

 

“You don’t?” Jason’s heart broke for his Greek cousins. They clearly weren’t as lucky as the Romans were when it came to being demigods, something he hadn’t actually imagined possible.

 

“Many of us don’t,” Thalia confirmed, “honestly the fact that I’ve made it this long surprises me.”

 

“But… how?” Jason asked, “you’re so close to the heart of the gods! How can you _not_ live long?”

 

“Just cuz we’re close to dear old dad doesn’t mean he actually does much for us,” Thalia snorted, ignoring the rumble of thunder from above, “I mean, sure, he turned me into a try to save my life, but that wasn’t any fun.”

 

“He did what now?”

 

“Not important right now,” Annabeth cut him off, “you said there’s retired legionaries. In the old legions, they could be called back to service in case of an emergency. Is that still the case?”

 

“I mean, sure, we could, but I can’t imagine we _would_ ,” he said, “the Legion’s pretty much capable of handling any threat. The _evocati_ just act as a fall back should things go _really_ bad for us. Unless we were threatened with complete and utter annihilation, there’s no way I can see them being recalled.”

 

“Fighting a war against Gaea isn’t considered that large of a threat?” Rachel asked in disbelief, “you’re kidding.”

 

“Not at all,” Jason laughed as he leaned back, “it’s just another week for us. Or maybe not. I don’t know. It depends on Reyna and Percy, most likely.”

 

“Tell me about him,” Annabeth demanded, “Percy.”

 

“Percy’s…powerful,” Jason said carefully, “not just with the powers he inherited from his father. He’s easily the best duellist that the legion has ever seen, and his tactical capacity is second to one. He’s a general, a soldier, a politician, whatever the situation requires of him. He was raised for six years by Lupa, and spent another two training with Salacia—uh, you guys call her _Amphitrite_ , I think?”

 

“Poseidon’s _wife_ trained him?” Thalia snorted, “I don’t believe it.”

 

“It’s true,” he insisted, “even Triton sparred him once or twice, from what I understand. Neptune and his family were determined to make sure Percy was successful. It’s probably what saved him on Orthys.”

 

“What happened on Orthys?”

 

“I told you that I destroyed Kronos’ throne,” Jason said, “while I was doing that, Percy fought Krios, the Titan of the South, who had been left to defend the palace. This was after fighting through a horde of monsters so his cohort could reach their assigned location, and promptly being forced to take over another cohort after its officer was killed. I only saw the tail end of the fight, but he summoned a hurricane around himself that staggered Krios enough for Percy to get a killing blow in. And then he took an explosion point blank.”

 

“Hades, this is the kid I called a douchebag?” Thalia asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I actually respect him a little more now,” she admitted, “though, I didn’t get to see him fight.”

 

“I only know two other people that can keep up with him other than me—his girlfriend, Reyna, and his _optio_ , Michael Kahale.”

 

“Ares kids?” Thalia gave him a knowing look.

 

“Reyna’s a daughter of Bellona—uh, I don’t actually think you have an equivalent for her, but honestly Athena would be the closest,” he corrected, “Michael’s a son of Venus—Aphrodite.”

 

The trio blinked but seemed to accept it.

 

“I remember Silena,” Annabeth said quietly, “we all thought she was Clarisse. It’s not impossible”

 

“This Percy… will he be in charge when we arrive?” The daughter of Athena continued.

 

“Probably,” Jason nodded, “unless something happened that meant he didn’t step up, in which case another may or may not have been elected or raised. It really depends. Either way, Reyna _will_ be the senior Praetor, and if Percy isn’t in charge, he’ll be firmly on her side. That said, he’ll have her ear, so that gives us a slight advantage.”

 

“Why? They dating?” Thalia asked with a smirk.

 

“Yes,” he said simply, “I’d imagine you and Andromeda are to Camp Half-Blood what Percy and Reyna are to Camp Jupiter.”

 

Annabeth blinked at the comparison but nodded.

 

“What can we expect when we arrive?” She asked.

 

“I imagine they won’t be happy to see a warship,” he laughed, “but they shouldn’t kill us on sight.”

 

“Encouraging.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Legion gets news on the coming war.

**Chapter Five**

**_Reyna_ **

****

“Where is he?” She demanded. None of the others could meet her gaze, and Reyna could feel her heartbeat starting to pick up. “No one? Not a _single_ person here knows where the _Primus Pilus_ , the Gods-damned _Son of Neptune_ has gone?”

 

“I’m sorry Praetor,” Michael Kahale began slowly, “but it’s… it’s like he’s—”

 

“Stop,” she ordered, “don’t finish that sentence. No one knows where he is, fine. Does anyone have an _idea_ where he could be?”

 

“Getting the shit smacked out of him by the king of the Giants,” a tired voice drifted across the floor of the Principia. Reyna whirled at it, and it took her several moments to figure out what she was looking at.

 

Percy hadn’t worn any armour nor carried any weapons since the Armour of Sextus Pompey and _Crocea Mors_ were destroyed, yet he now stood before them wearing a full set of officers’ armour, sans a helmet, which was hanging from his belt. A long Spatha was sheathed on his hip, and a pugio was strapped to his thigh. The whole set up was black and silver, starkly contrasting Percy’s battered face.

 

“Can you repeat that?” Larry asked.

 

“It’s a long story,” Percy limped over to them, “I didn’t plan to disappear in the middle of the night, but Juno called for my aide, and I had to move fast. I’m sorry I caused you worry.”

 

“Let’s backtrack, Percy,” Leila interrupted, “king of the Giants? Porphyrion?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the bitch,” he sighed, “massive dude. Wicked backhand. Doesn’t take well to boasting from demigods.”

 

“Why is the king of the freaking giants rising, Percy?” Hank asked frantically. Reyna couldn’t help but feel some of his anxiety, but she supressed it quickly. Percy just raised his hand as he moved to his seat, which Michael quickly vacated. Percy’s armour was covered in golden monster dust and regular dust, and his face was bruised on most of the left side. His lip had been split, but had since healed, but it was clear he hadn’t been near any water lately.

 

“From what I gathered they plan on overthrowing Olympus,” he answered calmly, “though Porphyrion isn’t the leader, as we all know. That would be Terra. It’s just much sooner than we expected as well.”

 

“I thought this wasn’t supposed to happen for years at least!” Gwen exclaimed. Percy shrugged carelessly, as if it didn’t bother him that, less than three months after ending one war, they were getting into another.

 

“We’re not that lucky, Gwen,” he said, leaning back into his chair, “look, I’m not happy about it either, but there’s no point in fighting it. We drew the shortest straw, so we’ll have to handle the burden.”

 

“At least tell us that Porphyrion is gone,” Larry asked, studying Percy’s armour closely, especially the helmet he had placed on the table in front of him.

 

“Gone? Yes,” Percy nodded, “defeated? No. He ran once Juno was freed. He didn’t want to risk being defeated too soon. We’ll see him again, I believe.”

 

Reyna was too busy studying her boyfriend to particularly listen to what it was he was saying. The armour he was wearing was like nothing she had ever seen before, beautifully wrought, and almost perfectly moulded to his body. It was a muscle cuirass with a leather skirt at the bottom, and _very_ heavy on the wolf motif, with one located in the centre of the breastplate, and with wolves forming the pauldrons on it. The vambraces too had wolves on them, as well as the lightning bolt of the legions.

 

The helmet, however, interested her more. It was a _galea_ fit with a faceplate and everything, and there was a horizontal crest running across the top, made of five large spikes, evoking the sunrise. Despite the fact it was blackened like the rest of the armour, there was no mistaking _this_ particular relic. The Helm of Aurelian, one of Rome’s greatest generals, responsible for bringing not one, but _two_ splinter empires back into the fold of Rome’s dominion. If he had the Helm, there was no doubt he would have other relics.

 

“So,” Michael said after a moment of silence, “nice digs, Percy.”

 

“Six artefacts,” Leila said quietly, drawing gazes. Percy just nodded in approval, “Juno and Mars sent you out to recover six artefacts. You have the Helm of Aurelian there, there’s no mistaking that. The others?”

 

“The heirlooms of Rome,” Percy replied, “Aurelian’s Helm. The Armour of Agrippa. The Pugio of Brutus. The Sword of Germanicus. Hector’s Spear. All designed for war.”

 

“That’s five,” Reyna pointed out, speaking for the first time. She was still furious at him for just vanishing, but she knew there would be a time to address it. “What’s the sixth.”

 

Percy was silent for a minute, and as that dragged on, she could see the struggle in his eyes.

 

“The Signet Ring of Augustus,” he finally whispered, and the entire room stiffened as one. Percy pulled on a chord around his neck, placing the ring in his free hand. The ring was made of silver, with a sphinx embossed in amber. Just having it visible filled Reyna with a sense of awe and empowerment, but she also felt a need to listen to Percy, to hear what he had to say and obey. “The most dangerous of them all,” he continued, putting it away, and the feeling disappeared, “it’s a ring meant for an emperor. You all felt the pull just then. It’s not something that should be in the open. I’m trusting all of you to keep this last one to yourselves.”

 

“It’s yours?” Gwen asked.

 

“Kind of,” Percy replied, rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s complicated. A story—”

 

“For another time?” Leila guessed. Percy just nodded silently.

 

“I’ve taken enough time up. We need to get through our duties, then we can talk about anything else,” he said, tilting his head towards Reyna. “Praetor?”

 

“There’s several orders of business,” she said, taking charge quickly. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she felt confident she could get through this. “This morning, work parties consisting of legionaries and fauns will begin quarrying the stones from the hills around us—but with this recent development, I’ve decided that having an armed patrol going on would be the best bet. The Fourth and Fifth are on furlough, but I’m rescinding it effective immediately. The Fourth will patrol the northern hills, where the Second is working, while the Fifth will watch the southern hills and the fauns.”

 

“An attack would most likely come from the south,” Percy mused, “there’s a lot more open ground there. If the Second took to the southern hills, they could bring some of their gear with them. That means on the slight chance there _is_ an assault today, we could have two battle-ready cohorts instead of one.”

 

“The fauns would fight,” Hank argued, but it was a weak one. It was true, technically, that they’d fight, but whether or not they’d do a _good_ job at it was very much in doubt. “Okay yeah, I see that. That means we have just two cohorts not doing anything, the First and the Third. What will we,” he motioned to himself and Percy, “be doing?”

 

“You’ll begin work on the foundations for the walls. Markers need to be set, and ditches need to be dug. We’ll work for the week, and Saturday, before resting on Sunday,” Reyna explained to them, “this will be the schedule. We’ll cycle out which cohort has what duties, but _everyone_ will be contributing towards the war effort.”

 

“Except for _Immunes_?”

 

“Well yeah that goes without saying,” Reyna shrugged, “not that there’s enough of them for it to make a difference. We have what—three hundred something legionaries, and only about twenty of them are _immunes_.”

 

“Twenty-six,” Gwen corrected, but Percy just snorted loudly at that. “What?”

 

“Officers aren’t _immunes_ , Gwen,” Leila said in his place, “we’ll be working alongside our legionaries, no matter what the task is. Reyna is reasonably the only one who is exempted from duty, and that’s because she’s got to run the city as well as the legion.”

 

“Is this some sort of weird thing that Tony taught you guys?” Larry asked with a frown.

 

“Literally nowhere does it say that officers are exempt from duties prescribed to their cohorts,” Percy said, leaning forward, arms thumping down on the table, “when appropriate, a centurion will supervise his cohort in order to get the best understanding of their task, otherwise, they’re just a regular legionary, doing their job. Tony was a good example of that logic, but it was _Lupa_ who taught it to me.”

 

There was a moment of silence as the words were absorbed by the others. Leila just smirked in pride. Reyna couldn’t fault her for it. She had been a centurion for about three days before becoming Praetor, but she wouldn’t have joined in the manual labour if it had been assigned to her.

 

“You’re both right,” Reyna placated, “as a centurion, you’re well within your right not to participate in the tasks, and simply supervise, but it might behove you to show those who serve under you that you haven’t forgotten what being a legionary is like.”

 

“Yes, Praetor,” the Centurions chorused.

 

“Good, moving on—” she shuffled her notes, before sighing at the piece of information that greeted her, “Jennifer Marlow, our esteemed citizen and ex-senator, has been making a lot of noise about the Legion’s plans for the walls being built. Despite no longer being part of the government, she has built up a considerable amount of support amongst the more…mortally-inclined senators, legacies who are generations removed from their demigod ancestor, and more mortal than demigod. These senators are pushing a surprisingly pacifistic agenda, one that, quite frankly, disturbs me. Ideas?”

 

“We could just kill her,” Percy offered, and Gwen spat out of her sweet-tea, causing Leila to fling herself backwards to avoid getting sprayed. Hank’s elbow slipped on the table, and he punched himself in the face, while Larry, who had been leaning back in his seat, lost his balance, tumbling backwards onto the floor. Even Michael, seated firmly at Percy’s side, nearly hit the roof as he shot to his feet. Reyna had stared at her boyfriend for a second before his damn smirk told her that he was joking—or at least she hoped that was why.

 

“Percy!” Leila exclaimed loudly, and he shrugged in response.

 

“What?” He asked, “I wasn’t _serious_. Besides, there’s an easier solution.”

 

Reyna narrowed her eyes, and the way that Percy refused to meet her gaze told her everything she needed to know.

 

“You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, are you?” She asked him in disbelief, “after everything he’s done to you, and you to him? There’s no way he’ll help us.”

 

“I’m confused,” Larry declared from the floor, “and would very much like an explanation. Who are we asking for help?”

 

“Well considering the words that were just exchanged,” Gwen said slowly, “I’m guessing Octavian?”

 

“Ah, yes, one of our precious _immunes_ ,” Hank laughed bitterly. “Why are we asking him for help?”

 

“Well, despite what everyone would like to think, Octavian and I don’t hate each other,” Percy began with that gods’ damned grin still plastered on his face, “I mean, we don’t like each other either, but there’s no hatred there. We simply respect our positions. That said, Octavian has always been a supporter of the Legion, and the idea that a _mortal_ would try to impose her will over it will send him berserk. We don’t even need to ask him—just let it slip, and within a day, there’ll be protesters outside her house, and sermons being preached about how important the Legion is to New Rome, and how sacrosanct our power is.”

 

“When did you become so smart?” Michael blinked, and Leila shot him a glare that quickly faded as she realised that many had only seen the warrior in Percy, not the politician. It was an easy mistake. Even when playing the politician, he took on the persona of the reluctant senator, the centurion forced to represent his cohort, entirely a soldier forced into a civilian role. Reyna, truthfully, rarely got to see Percy the Politician at work. Normally, it was Percy the Soldier, or Percy the Commander. This was refreshing.

 

“A while ago,” Percy replied, “look, if you guys have a different solution, I’m all for it, but this require a minimalist amount of input from us and doesn’t make it seem like the legion’s officially cracking down on dissenters—which we’ve always had, to be fair.”

 

“How… political,” Gwen noted, “I think it’s a good idea.”

 

“I third it,” Leila said quickly. Hank and Larry soon followed in throwing their support behind it.

 

Reyna sat silently for a moment as she weighed the option in her mind. Larry watched her closely, trying to discern what she was thinking, while Percy leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his bracers. Gwen, Leila, and Hank tried to seem like they weren’t waiting for her response. Michael, somehow, was almost asleep, only jerking awake when Percy nudged him.

 

“Have it done,” she ordered. “Quietly. I don’t want there to be _any_ chance of this blowing back on us. Percy, you can handle it?”

 

“Easily,” he assured her.

 

“Good. Let’s move on,” she continued, “the next issue on the table is… gods be good, someone’s painting dicks in the Forum.”

 

**XXX**

“Sit down, Percy,” she ordered quietly. Thankfully, her boyfriend obeyed without question, taking a seat in her living room. Aurum curled at his feet, while Argentum sat patiently at her own. “I hope you appreciate the fact that I have dogs that will know if you lie to me.”

 

“I can’t imagine any single situation where I would appreciate that,” he replied simply, “but I’ve also never lied to you, so it’s not something we need to worry about, is it?”

 

“Well there was that time you and the Fourth vanished to hunt monsters,” she pointed out.

 

“I never lied about that,” he countered, “I just didn’t tell you.”

 

“Lying by omission,” she snapped, “but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that I know what you know.”

 

“Ask away,” he said, “I’ll tell you what I can.”

 

“You fought Porphyrion alone?”

 

“No, the Hunters of Diana were there, among… others, so to speak,” he answered evasively. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he raised his hands up as if he were surrendering. “That’s all I’m _allowed_ to say on the matter. Juno’s orders.”

 

She studied him closely, trying to gauge his demeanour when something struck her. She had been too distracted to notice it earlier, but there was a lack of tension in Percy’s body, no indication that he was forcing himself to be still when he’d rather be looking for—

 

“Jason,” she breathed, “you saw Jason. He’s okay? Where is he?”

 

“Yes, yes, and I don’t know,” he replied. Neither of her automaton’s shifted, so he was being truthful.

 

“Who was he with?”

 

“Not allowed to say,” still, no reaction from her mechanical hounds, “trust me, I’m not happy that I had to let him go, and I still don’t know most of the circumstances, but the fact that he’s alive and _safe_ is all that matters to me. And he still knows how to kick ass, which is good. Lost his coin, though, so no more flippy tricks for Jason.”

 

“How’d he lose it?”

“No idea,” he replied with a tired shrug, and she realised her was still armoured. “He didn’t have it when I encountered him. Though he did get a storm-spirit horse out of it. And, I think, a girlfriend.”

 

“A what now?”

 

“A girlfriend. Daughter of Venus from what I could gather,” Percy explained casually, “pretty little thing. Nothing compared to you, of course, but I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to deny that she’s attractive.”

 

“Charming,” she drawled, “I wasn’t aware there were many demigods our age that aren’t in camp.”

 

“Yet there are at least two,” Percy said with a sigh, “permission to leave my armour, praetor?”

 

“Granted,” she replied automatically before flinching and changing her tone. “Are you hurt?”

 

“Sore, mostly,” he answered, sliding his bracers off before fiddling with the straps at his side. Reyna watched for a moment before sighing and moving to help him.

 

Gods, he was useless at some things. Helping him pull first the pauldrons off before slipping the armour over his shoulders was an easy task with two at it, and it didn’t escape her notice how Percy was careful not to move too fast, and the reverence that he placed the armour down with. Underneath the armour, he was wearing, ironically, a long Under Armour shirt that was torn in several places. He slid that off slowly, and her breath caught in her throat. Percy’s chest was covered in scars, many of them faded, but it was the large purple bruising all across his torso that worried her.

 

He was perceptive, this boyfriend of hers, because he quickly took her hands, and placed on of them over his heart, letting her feel the rhythmic _thump, thump, thump_ as it beat strongly.

 

“I told you, I got the shit smacked out of me,” he said, “by the King of the Giants no less, and yet, here I stand. Reyna, _nothing_ is going to stop me from coming back to you. Not the Titans, not the Giants, not the Gods themselves. I’m sorry that I disappeared without warning, but to be fair, I didn’t get any either. Just a vague and rather frantic cry for help from Juno.”

 

“That didn’t make it any easier to wake up and have no one know where you were,” she sighed, “Blackjack was seen flying around, and you weren’t with him, and I just—”

 

“I know,” he said, “trust me, I do. I wanted to tell _someone_ , but I didn’t have time. I had to _run_ to the Wolf House in full battle gear. I’ve done some stupid things in my time, but that one was easily in the top five.”

 

“The Wolf House?” Reyna blinked in surprise, “where was Lupa?”

 

“No idea,” he shrugged, “not there, which is all that matters. To be fair, I didn’t even see the end of the fight—I got pimp-smacked into an apartment in Sonoma. That was awkward. I had to sit in a lake for an hour and half just so that I could move properly, and even then, I still had to limp here, which took most of the morning, save for when a rather ambitious Pegasus looking for donuts managed to find me.”

 

“Blackjack?”

 

“No, his friend Guido,” Percy grinned, “Blackjack’s going to be furious with me.”

 

“Tell me about Porphyrion, Percy,” she told him, “I need to know what we’re facing.”

 

Percy collapsed back into the seat, sighing deeply.

 

“I’ve never been more terrified in my life,” he admitted, “not when facing the Trojan Sea Monster, or even Krios,” she could see it was painful for him to admit to his fear, but the fact that he _was_ spoke volumes to the threat, “he’d just been leeched back into existence—his weakest form possible—and he was nearly forty feet tall. Dragon legs and a humanoid upper body. He radiated power unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Prideful, though. Boasted his titles and seemed personally insulted when I responded with my own accolades. Probably why he bitch-smacked me out of the park. But from what I gathered, Jason and Juno beat him together.”

 

“What makes you think that?” She asked him. If he had been launched across the city, then there was a high chance he was more injured that he was letting on. She’d deal with that at a later date.

 

“Just a hunch,” he shrugged once more, before finally wincing. It seemed even Percy’s pain tolerance had a limit.

 

“Stay sitting, you idiot,” she grumbled, “I’ll send someone to go find Dustin. He’ll be happy to see you again, at the very least. You’re his most frequent patient.”

 

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” he groaned as he settled into the couch before stilling, “I’ll have you know that I’m the model patient.”

 

“Maybe for an institution,” she shot back at him, “stay here, and don’t move. If you’re somewhere but that exact spot when I return, I’ll be very angry with you.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Percy grinned. Reyna normally loved that grin, but at the moment, she was too annoyed with him to be swayed. “Hey, uh Reyna?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Keep the whole Jason thing between us for now. Please?”

 

She just gave him a simple nod, before turning to her robo-dogs.

 

“Aurum, Argentum,” she called, drawing their attention. She pointed at Percy. “Watch him. Don’t let him move.”

 

Both automatons barked in acknowledgement, before settling back down. Percy shot her a look of betrayal, and she just responded with a grin of her own, before slipping out the front door. Even as she was closing the door behind her, she could hear Percy trying to convince to machines not to ‘rat me out’ and offered them oil baths if they would do as he said. She snorted quietly to herself, before shaking her head and setting off for Dustin’s clinic. When the son of Apollo, nearing his forties now, wasn’t working with the legion, he ran a free clinic in the outskirts of the city, mostly helping out the fauns who were ignored by the rest of New Rome, suffering from age or wound related injuries and diseases.

 

Reyna had to admit that it was a kind thing to do, and that not many would do it willingly, which made Dustin stand out all the more. It was admirable, if a bit foolish. There were many who saw the fauns as lesser second-class citizens and would do their best to have Dustin discredited. In fact, it was already happening though Reyna had sent subtle signs that she didn’t approve of it and that had curbed it—for now. She had a pretty clear idea of what she’d do if it got out of hand, but otherwise, she’d let the _medicus_ handle it himself.

 

Reyna was beginning to suspect that Dustin had a ‘Percy-Sense’ that tingled whenever he was injured, because when she arrived, the son of Apollo took one look at her before he began silently packing his equipment into a bag, not even sparing her a greeting. He called out to one of his aides, telling them to keep the clinic open while he was gone, and then he was trudging out the door.

 

“What’d the boy do this time?” He asked with a weary sigh as the walked down the _via principia,_ “wrestle with the Hydra?”

 

“If only,” Reyna responded, “he got into a fight with the King of the Giants.”

 

Dustin stumbled over his feet before righting himself and glancing at her to see if there was any indication she was joking.

 

“I’m getting too old for this, Praetor,” he said, “I’ve seen so much since I first joined the legion. Too much, one would argue, and even now, nearly twenty years after I left, I’m still drawn in. Granted, it’s the choice I made when I accepted Lupa’s offer to be the _primum medicus_. But by the gods, Percy has gotten injured more times in five years than I saw _anyone_ in the preceding fifteen. That boy’s a magnet for trouble.”

 

“On that, we both agree,” Reyna groaned, “and he doesn’t even go looking for it! It just _finds_ him, no matter where he is! It’s insane!”

 

“The downside of being the son of one of the most powerful gods, it seems, but even Jason’s injuries don’t match those that Percy sustained,” Dustin continued, “but that may be due to how they were perceived by the others.”

 

“You’re not wrong,” Reyna agreed, “but both Jason _and_ Percy hate the fact that they were treated differently from each other. I’d refrain from bringing it up in front of him.”

 

“Oh, I’m very much aware of that fact, Praetor,” Dustin laughed, “I was doctor to them both—I’ve been privy to some of their most philosophical discussions, most of which happened when one or the other was injured. They’re far more alike than anyone wants to admit, except for themselves. But even then, they’re different enough that it’s not like staring at clones.”

 

“Yeah?” She knew that was the case but having Dustin’s insight could be interesting.

 

“Jason’s the ideal Roman,” the doctor explained, “loyal to the senate, a great warrior, great commander, and great politician. Everything he did—does—is to further the power of the people. Expanding the senate was a master stroke, but by reintroducing the position of _optio_ , he made sure he didn’t alienate the legion.”

 

“That was Percy’s idea, actually,” she admitted, “we were trying to figure out how to keep it balanced, and he suggested it.”

 

“Makes sense,” Dustin shrugged, “Percy’s clever like that. It’s what makes him so dangerous.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Percy’s also the ideal Roman,” Dustin said, “but of a different time. If Jason were the ideal _republican_ Roman, Percy’s the ideal _principate_ Roman. Loyal to the _state_ , a phenomenal commander, an unmatched warrior, and a cunning statesman. Every move he makes is calculated, and it’s designed to have the optimal outcome for the situation, even if it’s not what people _think_ they want. He’s… well, he’s Augustus, Cicero, Claudius, Germanicus, Agrippa, and Scipio Africanus wrapped into one. It’s why the Praetors before you feared him so much.”

 

“They didn’t _fear_ him…”

 

“Oh yes they did,” he laughed, “they feared him immensely. They were worried that he was going to usurp their authority after the Battle of Mount Orthys—before then even. Lupa saw it too, I think, though none of you ever did. It’s no accident that Percy became friends with everyone who’s currently in power—don’t mistake me, he genuinely likes everyone, but he was also clever enough to know who was going to succeed who in the cohorts. You and Jason, that was unintentional, the desire was to be friends with you because you were good. Michael was a happy accident, he approached Percy all on his own merit. Hank was practically _groomed_ by Percy to assume command, and none of you even noticed it.”

 

“What?”

“When Percy started bringing Hank to more and more events with all of you, he also came to the notice of Daniel Tan. Hank started learning more from you, and Percy, and Jason, and so Daniel began trusting him with more and more tasks,” Dustin explained carefully, “The only centurion Percy _didn’t_ have a hand in helping was Larry, and that’s because he’d never go to your cohort without your permission.”

 

“That’s…” she drifted off as she realised that he was _right_. Percy had formed personal relationships with everyone who was in command. And yes, some of the relationships had been formed before he started making plans, but it didn’t change the fact. Reyna was… she was more _impressed_ than anything else. Percy had done something that very few would have been able to pull off, let alone pull off with very few people noticing. “…something else.”

 

“Oh, it is,” he laughed again, “I’m glad you’ve realised it now. Watch him carefully over the next few weeks, in the senate and with the legion. You’ll learn something new every time.”

 

And then they were at her house, where Percy was still trying to bribe Aurum and Argentum into letting him move. He gave up when he saw Dustin, instead just pouting in defeat. The doctor just arched an eyebrow in response.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Got bitch-smacked by a giant,” Percy replied, “crashed into an apartment about… four hundred yards away, I think, and then went and sat in the water for an hour and a bit. I’m _mostly_ fine, just a bit sore.”

 

“Got a table I can have him lay on?” Dustin asked her. She just tipped her head to the dining room, and he led Percy there, before forcing him to lay down and get inspected.

 

“It’s really not that bad,” Percy said as Dustin listened to his heartbeat.

 

“I’m sure it isn’t, but I’m obligated to check regardless,” the doctor answered.

 

“How’s your clinic going?”

 

“Fine.”

“Any issues?”

 

“Stop talking.”

 

“Someone’s been bothering you then?”

 

“Percy, I swear by all the gods, just shut up for a moment and let me do my job.” Dustin snapped. It worked, too, because Percy was silent for the next five minutes, at least while Dustin had his stethoscope out. Once it was removed, however, he went right back to it, as he was poked and prodded.

 

“Somebody’s said something about the clinic?” He asked, grunting slightly at one particularly sharp poke.

 

“Pain?”

 

“A little,” Percy admitted, “it’s not _in_ pain but the pressure made it flare up.”

 

“Alright, good,” Dustin muttered, before moving Percy’s limbs around. Every reaction got the same question, and a different answer. Once he was done, he took a step back and studied Percy for a few moments. “I’m going to tentatively say that there’s no internal damage, nor any external damage. You’re bruised to hell and back, but that will fade with time and medicine, which I’m going to have someone bring to _your_ quarters. Otherwise, you seem fine enough.”

 

“Thanks doc, I appreciate the house call,” Percy replied.

 

“It’s my job,” Dustin told him simply. “And Percy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If anyone has any issues with my clinic, let _me_ handle it,” Dustin’s voice was sharp, “it is, after all, _my_ clinic, not yours.”

 

“I invested in it,” Percy countered, “so excuse me for wanting to make sure that investment was wasted.”

 

“Wait you were Dustin’s mysterious investor?” Reyna blinked, before turning to the doctor, “why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Because I asked him not to,” Percy answered in the son of Apollo’s stead, “if people knew I funded the clinic, how long before people were questioning _why_ I funded it? What were my intention helping the fauns out? What am I planning that requires their help?”

 

“All good points, too,” Dustin added, “people like Percy. Politicians don’t.”

 

“It’s my charming personality,” he explained with a grin, “and my father. Otherwise, they might think I’m just some powerless demigod with no ambition.”

 

“I can’t believe you two!” She threw her hands up in the air, “you didn’t even tell me!”

 

“Well, yeah?” Percy cocked his head, “should I have?”

 

Reyna was silent in response. She _wanted_ him to have told her, but he was right. He didn’t have to, nor was he obligated to, unless something happened that required him to do so. He was annoyingly clever, this boyfriend of hers.

 

“Fine, we’ll talk about this later,” she pointed at Percy, before turning to Dustin, “thank you for coming by and checking him out. I really do appreciate it.”

 

“Like I said, Praetor, it’s my job. I was happy to do it.”

 

“Regardless,” she shook her head, “if you need any help with anything, let me know.”

 

“Of course, Praetor.”

 

He was out of the house in a flash, leaving them alone again. Percy was studying her carefully.

 

“What?” She asked him.

 

“Am I in trouble?”

 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank meets the Primus Pilus. Percy and Reyna meet with some Senators.

**Chapter Six**

**_Frank_ **

****

He hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting the Primus Pilus yet, and while Hazel said he was nice, the last time Frank had seen him, he was wearing armour befitting a king, and limping through the Caldecott tunnel, covered in bruises and golden dust. He was, very simply, intimidating as hell, and Frank wasn’t sure he’d even be able to hold a conversation with him without stuttering or panicking. His selection into the Fifth hadn’t surprised him—from everything his grandmother had told him, and everything he had learned, they weren’t looked upon very kindly. Granted, it was better than he expected, because nobody openly taunted the Fifth, but he heard the whispers.

 

_Please,_ he sent a silent prayer up to whoever his father was, _please claim me soon. Please let me prove myself to the legion._

 

As always, his prayer went unanswered, and he resumed his duties protecting the First Cohort, which had been assigned to labour duties twice in a row. Frank had heard rumours that it was a punishment for the Primus Pilus vanishing in the middle of the night without telling anyone, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe them or not. Gwen, and Hazel had both told him that more often than not, the rumours he heard were false, and to not bother with them. Since he was one of the few legionaries more than skilled with a bow, Frank had been placed on one of the makeshift towers that had been constructed, giving him a better vantage point over the open field, where the First Cohort, along with the Third, worked at digging a foundation trench that stretched from one side of the Aqueduct all the way to the lake. He knew that the Second and Fourth were on the other side of the Aqueduct doing the same thing, and he didn’t envy them their task.

 

This was the first time that all five cohorts had been tasked with a duty of some form, and the theories as to why were crazy. There were rumours that a force of a hundred thousand monsters was marching on New Rome, and that the Legion needed the walls built in less than a month, which, while doable for the legions of old, would be a bit more difficult today. Another rumour was that there was _no_ threat, and the Praetor just needed a way to build her powerbase in a time of peace, so they were building a defensive wall, not to keep monsters _out_ , but citizens _in_. Frank believed that even less than the first one.

 

He liked Praetor Reyna—she had been honest with him when he told her of his ancestry, but she didn’t judge him for it, and suggested that if he were able, he should speak to the Primus Pilus on it. He hadn’t found the opportunity to do so yet, and he was far, far too shy to approach the legendary centurion just yet. Frank had watched him, as had many of the other recruits, trying to learn through observation, and everything he had seen just screamed ‘danger!’ The Centurion of the First wasn’t a man to be crossed lightly, though Frank had heard rumours that an ambitious _tiro_ son of Bellona had done exactly that, and been scared straight by Centurion Jackson in response.

 

“See anything?” A voice asked from behind him, and Frank let out a yelp as he spun around.

 

Covered in dirt and sweat and standing before him was none other than Primus Pilis Perseus Jackson himself, an amused smirk on his face.

 

“Uhm, no sir, everything is clear, nothing to report,” he stammered out, “just…open ground.”

 

“Well that’s good to know,” Jackson grinned, leaning against the railing on the tower, “but I’m kinda tired, so we’re going to pretend that you have something to report, and that’s what’s keeping me from returning to help my men in the trench.”

 

“My great-grandfather was Shen Lun!” Frank blurted out.

 

“Well then,” Jackson took a deep breath, “it seems we _do_ have something to talk about, actually. That’s a dangerous name to utter here, and even more dangerous to be related to. Lucky for you, I’m a son of Neptune, so I understand better than most about the stigma that comes with the powers of the Earthshaker.”

 

“Did they…treat you differently when you arrived, sir?” Frank asked. Jackson nodded quietly, studying the work before them.

 

“At first, yes,” he eventually said, “there were whispers and…not whispers. Very early in my career, I fought another legionary who insulted my lineage, and I utterly deconstructed him in front of the legion and half the city. Not many whispers after that. But Shen Lun…I’m sure that Reyna already told you to keep that to yourself, but I need to reiterate it, _probatio_ Zhang.”

 

“You know my name?” Frank blinked in surprise.

 

“Frank Zhang, Canadian originally, came with letters of recommendation but at the suggestion of Reyna, you were placed in the Fifth Cohort,” the centurion rattled off, “parentage unknown but that’s no issue, I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough. I’ve noticed you favour a bow, and some think you may be a son of Apollo, but I’m not sure myself. You don’t have the look nor the feel.”

 

“The…feel…sir?”

 

“Every demigod has a different aura to them,” Jackson explained, “but there’s also similarities that siblings will have. Children of Apollo, for example, tend to make everyone feel better—literally, I’ve seen scratches heal from close proximity—but I don’t get the same feeling around you that I do around other children of Apollo. There’s something…disciplined about you, Zhang. Warlike.”

 

“But I’m useless with everything but a bow, sir,” Frank protested, “the drillers of the Fifth say I can’t learn to use a sword.”

 

The Primus Pilus snorted then and shook his head vigorously.

 

“That’s bull and they know it,” he told Frank, “anyone can learn how to use a sword, they just need to be trained the right way. Clearly, the Fifth’s instructors are lazier than they should be, and they’re slacking in their duties. That’s fine, I’ll pick up the pace for them. What time does Gwen have you waking up?”

 

“Six hundred hours, sir,” Frank replied, “training begins at oh-seven-thirty hours.”

 

“Start getting up at five, and we’ll go through drills together,” Jackson told him, “let’s see if we can’t figure out what technique you need to be taught.”

 

“Sir?” Frank wasn’t sure if the Primus Pilus was serious or not, and he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why Jackson would go through the effort of training him when he had an entire cohort to run as well.

 

“Did I stutter?” Jackson tilted his head, a wry grin on his face, “look, Frank, I know what it’s like to be an underdog—I fought my way out of that place, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the rest of you. Besides, I was Fourth Cohort far longer than I’ve been First—the Fifth is still, and always will be, my sister Cohort. Alright, I’ve procrastinated enough. Five hundred hours, probie, be there or be square.”

 

And then the Centurion was gone, sliding down the ladder and rejoining his men in the trench, a shovel tossed his direction as he went back to work. Frank watched him a few moments longer before his gaze reluctantly returned to the empty land before him, his mind racing at the encounter he had just had with New Rome’s most infamous demigod.

 

**XXX**

Even though the Primus Pilus had told him what was going to happen, Frank had felt the need to clear it with his centurion, Gwen, first. After he had told her about the order Centurion Jackson had given him, she had just shrugged and told him that as long as he wasn’t too tired for their own training, she didn’t particularly care what he did, though Frank though he saw her having quiet words with the Fifth’s two sword instructors later that day.

 

His first session with the First Centurion began at exactly five o’clock. He had gotten up fifteen minutes prior, and after stumbling out of the barracks, whispered curses following him for the noise he made, he wandered to the Campus Martius, where he found Centurion Jackson leaning against a training post with two _rudii_ , the lead-cored wooden training swords the legion used, held in each hand. A set of heavy wicker shields leaned rested on the ground beside him, but other than that, there was nothing else.

 

“Here,” Jackson said, throwing the training sword at Frank, who fumbled as he caught it, “show me how you hold your sword.”

 

Frank gripped it the way he had been taught, and instantly Jackson sighed.

 

“They mean well, your instructors, but by the gods of Olympus they’re not very smart, apparently. The hilt’s too small for you, Probie,” Jackson told him, “you’ve got big hands. We need to get you a bigger sword, and we’ll work from there. Come with me.”

 

Frank followed silently as Jackson led him into the Principia, deserted except for a few scribes already at work, before waiting outside a room after the centurion told him to. Three minutes later, he emerged with a new _rudii_ , this one with a hilt much longer than the one he had been using before. When he held it in his hand, he found that it fit him almost perfectly.

 

“Sir?” He asked, “where did you get this?”

 

“Would you believe me if I told you that I ran into a cyclops that challenged me to a duel? I wouldn’t use real weapons, so he forged those out for us, and then gave it to me when I beat him.” The son of Neptune laughed, “but you, Frank, while not as tall or as wide as a cyclops, have cyclops sized hands. I’d hate to see how hard you can punch someone.”

 

Frank blushed and muttered his thanks, but the Centurion had left, striding out of the Principia and forcing Frank to run after him. It wasn’t long before they were back at the training field, less than ten minutes since he had first arrived. Jackson motioned for him to hold his sword again, and this time, it felt far more natural, far easier to hold the blade as he had been taught.

 

“That’s better,” Jackson nodded, “but there’s still room for improvement. There’s always room for improvement. Attack me.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Did I stutter, _probatio_?” Jackson asked, narrowing his eyes, “ _attack me_.”

 

Frank only hesitated a moment longer, but then he launched his first attack, lunging towards the centurion and jabbing forwards with his _rudis_. Jackson didn’t even blink as he batted the strike aside, smacking Frank’s calf with the flat of the blade. Frank pivoted around, intent on striking again, but Jackson had closed the distance between them, hooking his foot behind Frank’s ankle and jerking it back as his free hand shoved at the opposite shoulder. There was a brief moment of weightlessness as he was airborne, but then Frank crashed down onto the ground below him, the air getting knocked from his lungs.

 

“You’re off balance,” the centurion noted, “rather odd for an archer, isn’t it?”

 

Frank didn’t reply, mostly because he was too busy wheezing in a vain attempt to regain his breath.

 

“Of course, since no one taught you how to properly fight with a blade, this makes sense,” Jackson continued, “which is why _I’m_ going to teach you how to fight. It’s not that different from archery, in some regards, but it’s also very different. Training will make you better.”

 

“Is that how you did it, sir?” Frank asked as he slowly climbed to his feet.

 

“Training and experience, yes,” Jackson nodded, “but I also had the fortune—or misfortune, depending on who you ask—to spar with some deities as I trained. Lupa, Triton, even Salacia all sparred me at some point. It’s something else.”

 

“How long did it take you to get as good as you are?”

 

“ _That_ ,” A new voice chimed in, “depends on who you ask.”

 

Frank spun around to find the Praetor, Reyna, watching them, an amused curl on her lips, the closest he had ever seen her to smiling.

 

“Praetor,” he said with a snappy salute, fist-to-heart. Beside him, the Centurion just dipped his head in greeting.

 

“If you ask Percy, for example,” she continued, “he’s only as good as he is today because he has years of experience behind him, and he’ll be better tomorrow. But if you ask anyone else, it happened about two and a half years ago, when he was fourteen. He’s learned some new things since then, of course, but he’s been that way since then.”

 

“You know, isn’t it considered rude to interrupt someone’s lessons?” Jackson asked, a sly grin on his face, “and here I thought the Praetor was the model of politeness.”

 

“Uh huh,” Reyna said, looking Jackson over once before returning her gaze to Frank, “unfortunately, _probie_ , something’s come up that requires the attention of my Primus Pilus, as well as the other Centurions. This lesson will have to be cancelled. As will your morning training with the legion.”

 

“Work on the posts,” Jackson told him, “run through the footwork drills, and get used to your new blade. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a proper sword.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Frank said, before saluting to the two officers. They sauntered off, slipping into a conversation as easily as he breathed. He wondered what it was like, to know and be so close to someone that even time apart didn’t make things awkward when you were back together. He let out a sigh before moving over the posts, beginning his footwork again, only slower this time, so that he could focus on each individual step. It was how he had learned to wield a bow. Maybe it would help him with his swordsmanship as well.

 

**_Percy_ **

****

Reyna didn’t talk about anything important while they walked, which was how he knew that whatever issue had come up, _it_ was important. Of course, if he knew that, she knew that he knew. Just as he could read her, she could read him. He loved it.

 

“Why Frank?” She asked after a moment of silence. “Why train him,” she clarified, looping her arm through his own and resting her head on his shoulder. It was at times like this that she was at her most ease, even when in public, though it had taken time for them to even allow this much affection out in public.

 

“Honestly?” He shrugged with his free shoulder, “I don’t know. I guess…I know what it’s like to have others not believe in you. I had to earn that trust, and I had to _fight_ for it. Frank deserves the opportunity for the same.”

 

“Oof, you better keep that to yourself, Perce,” Reyna grinned at him, “people might think their scary _Primus Pilus_ is getting soft.”

 

“Well, you know me,” he responded with an easy smile of his own, “things are only hard when you’re around.”

 

His girlfriend began spluttering indignantly, and he howled with laughter, drawing more than a few curious glances. No one approached them, of course, because even with Reyna red-faced and Percy unable to breathe due to how hard he was laughing, they cut an imposing figure. They passed the beginnings of a wall, the foundation having been filled, and the first blocks of stone laid in place, before reaching the Pomerian Line. Terminus and Julia were waiting at the boundary, and the little girl ran up to the two of them, a wide grin on her face.

 

“Percy! Reyna!” She greeted, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, “Terminus gave me the job as his assis—assiste—helper!”

 

“Easy there, Julia, you might sprain something,” Reyna laughed, ruffling her hair, “are you a good helper?”

 

“The best!” She assured them with a solemn nod, before her grin returned, “I need you to hand over any weapons.”

 

Reyna placed a dagger on the tray, but Percy was unarmed, and simply smiled at her, flicking a _denarius_ onto the tray before crossing over the line. Terminus wished them luck, and they pressed onwards, into the Senate House, where the other Centurions were waiting for them, along with a few senators. It didn’t escape his notice that they were the ones who supported the legion the most. Vanessa Grey, Richard Horn, Anthony Ramirez, and Veronica Mason. They in turn were supported by other senators, but thee four were the leaders of the pro-legion faction of the Senate.

 

“I’m sorry for summoning you at such short notice, but we have a situation forming,” Reyna said, “as you know, the faction formed by those who are not entirely pro-legion, the…what do they call themselves now, Richard?”

 

“ _Populares_ ,” the senator sighed. A son of Bellona in his late twenties, he had been separated from the legion for nearly a decade at this point, though his physique hadn’t changed at all in that time. “It’s a joke, honestly, because they’re trying to force us into the role of the _Optimates_. Not that we’ve given them the satisfaction.”

 

“Do you have a name for yourselves?” Gwen leaned forward, “or are you just ‘pro-legion?’”

 

“Well, we have a name, but we didn’t come up with it, the augur did,” Anthony shrugged, “ _puer Aquilae._ The Eagle Party. It’s caught on, hence the eagle pins.” He jerked a thumb at the clasp on his toga, the same eagle that the legion had once carried into battle, that had been the symbol of the greatest empire to grace the earth.

 

“Factionalism,” Percy said, “is bad for the senate. Do we have an idea how these _Populares_ came to be?”

 

“We’ve been working on tracking down their leadership, but right now, all we’ve gathered is that Daniel Voss seems to be their spokesperson.”

 

“Voss?” Hank blinked in surprise, “he’s always supported the legion.”

 

“He still does, but he’s also uncomfortable with how militarised New Rome is becoming,” Veronica explained, “He’ll continue to support the legion if the proposals are merited, but when it comes to the city, he’s passionately defensive of the people’s rights. I’ve had several of my constituents come to me asking if a draft is going to be implemented.”

 

“Which, actually, is a good question,” Vanessa admitted, “is there?”

 

“No,” Reyna said quickly, “we have no plans for a draft, and we hadn’t even considered it, save for the Urban Cohort, which _was_ approved by the Senate. Unless opinions have changed?”

 

“They haven’t, but it might be smart to place one of the Eagles in command of the unit,” Anthony told them, “you know how Romans are, with loyalty to their immediate superior more often than not.”

 

“It should be Voss,” Leila said, and all eyes went to her. Percy grinned at her with pride. She was learning how to be a politician. “He’s their spokesperson against a more militarised New Rome, right? So if we place him in charge of New Rome’s militarised police force, he’ll shift into a more war-like footing, right?”

 

This time, the group glanced to Reyna, who gave an elegant shrug.

 

“Maybe, but if he’s rigid in his beliefs, he might take actions to ensure that the position can’t be abused.” She replied.

 

“Even better then, because whoever replaces him would look like a tyrant if they tried to overthrow his checks to power,” Leila said, and Percy could see that she was picking up speed, “Daniel may be one of the _Populares_ , but I think it’s not because he doesn’t support the legion, but rather because he loves Rome. He’d never use the Urban Cohort to overthrow the Senate, and they’d never fight against the legion. By placing him in command, we can ensure that we have a genuinely incorruptible commander. If we make him work in concert with the legion as well, he may become more sympathetic to our situation.”

 

“It’s a smart plan,” Percy spoke immediately, throwing his support behind his friend, “I think it’ll work too. Now we just need to figure out how to get Daniel into the position.”  


“We nominate him?” Larry said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

 

“C’mon, Larry, we both know that’d just make them suspicious,” Hank elbowed him gently, “I think what Percy’s saying is that we need to convince the _Populares_ to support Daniel all on their own, so that it doesn’t look like the legion or the Eagles are making some sort of convoluted power move.”

 

“Spot on,” he nodded, before deferring back to Reyna. She wasn’t sitting in her usual seat, but was instead parked on the steps of the dais.

 

“I think it’s a good _plan_ ,” she stressed, “but we don’t have enough information on the _Populares_ for me to be comfortable approving it. Get me more information on them, and come back to me. I’ll make a decision once I have more to work with.”

 

“By your command, Praetor,” Percy saluted, the others mimicking the action. “Do we bring anyone into this?”

 

“If you have assets to use, use them,” she instructed, “but don’t inform anyone _why_ you’re doing it. This stays between the fifteen of us, understood?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” they nodded. The others left, but Percy stayed with Reyna, waiting for her to move. After a while, she looked up to him.

 

“When did it turn to this?” She asked him, frustration creeping into her voice, “when did the Senate devolve into factions and backhanded plotting? Maria and Julia never had to deal with this!”

 

“That’s because their senate was ten strong,” Percy reminded her, “it was small enough that they could control it absolutely. You and Jason expanded it because you wanted the people to have a larger voice. The legion rules, but the people _live_ here, Reyna. They’re never going to be unanimous in their ideals and beliefs. As a leader, you need to see the whole, look for the threads that connect the diversity, and tie it together.”

 

“Gods, Percy, I don’t have the training for this!” She exclaimed, rising to her feet as she began pacing, “I’m a soldier, not a politician! I do my best, but you—it comes naturally to you! And you _do_ have the training for it! Lupa and Salacia both taught you how to lead a city—By the gods, they taught you how to lead _nations_ —why won’t you run for Praetor? You know if you asked I’d—”

 

“Reyna,” he cut her off sharply, stepping in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place, “you are doing far better than you think. It’s not my time to lead. I wish I could tell you more, but even _I_ don’t know why. But…if you want to be better, I can help with that. You’re right—Lupa and Salacia prepared me for this in a way not many understand. I can’t become your co-praetor, but I _can_ teach you what I know. And I’ll continue advising you, as I did for you and Jason when you were both in power.”

 

“Why won’t you just _step up_ ,” she growled into his chest. Percy took a deep breath so he didn’t say something stupid.

 

“I can’t,” he said, his own frustration bubbling up even more “and I don’t know _why_. I just can’t.”

 

“Percy, we are in the middle of a crisis! I have senators planning _something_ , I’m readying my city for another war, and I’m short one Praetor, which means I am running this all _by myself_ ,” she cried out, slapping his chest, and it was the last straw, “I can’t do it alone!”

 

“Reyna, I can’t become Praetor!” He exploded, and she recoiled from him in surprise, “I understand that you’re frustrated, because I am _also frustrated_. But I had _two_ goddesses tell me that I couldn’t step up to the occasion, because something beyond my control, beyond your control, is happening. I had to listen as the one who took Jason, _my brother_ , told me that I would have to stand back and let everything happen because it’s not my place to change fate! I have _always_ been a pawn to them, and this is just another move. First I was removed so that Jason could earn the loyalty of the legion, and now I’m being told to do the same thing because someone _else_ is coming to take control when I could do it _so easily_.”

 

Reyna took several steps back, and he mirrored the action, aware just how much power was rolling off his body. But he didn’t stop. All the weeks of frustration were coming out, everything he had dealt with since he woke up after Orthys was finally surfacing and making itself known.

 

“If I had a month, I could restructure the city’s political landscape to make sure that we had no issues from anyone. I could reform the legion to better handle the issues we’re facing. Feasibly, given several years of no conflict, I could plan a complete takeover of the United States politically. I am not someone who is supposed to be _idle_ , but the gods have made it abundantly clear to me that I am next to useless to them, because they have _others_ who can solve their problems for them. Lupa spent _years_ programming me to be the perfect weapon for Rome. Salacia spent nearly two trying to turn me into…I don’t know, an _emperor_. But I am _sixteen_. I should be worried about sports, and school. I should be wondering about the next date I’m going to take you on, and exams. But I _can’t_. Those issues are so far below me that they don’t even warrant a second of my time,” he spat out, and Reyna backed up even further from him, and to his horror, there was fear, actual fear, in her eyes. Still, he pressed on, “instead, I’m trying to wrangle a cohort of sixty boys and girls, be a leader to the other centurions, and help you the best I can. I’m _terrified_ , Reyna, of the enemy we’re facing, and I can’t even be scared properly because if I panic, others will as well, and then we’re just in another problem. I have to be so much more, because people see me as some sort of _idol_ now, someone who’s example they need to follow. I have to—”

 

“Check!” Lupa’s voice was like a crack of thunder, and his body stilled instinctively. “Are you trying to destroy the city?”

 

“What—?” That was when he felt it. He had been so angry he hadn’t noticed the build up of power around him. A storm unlike anything he had ever summoned had built up, not just over New Rome, but most of San Francisco, the sea churning violently as waves slammed into the beaches. He had been seconds away from unleashing a storm that would destroy the city. “I—I need to leave. I have to—”

 

He didn’t listen to Lupa or Reyna as they called out, reaching out for Blackjack, who was outside the Senate House before he had even exited it, and he mounted,  flying off as people tried to get his attention.

 

“ _Where to, boss?”_ Blackjack asked, though there was an undertone of nervousness in him.

 

“Just…away. Go North, towards the Wolf House.”

 

“ _You got it boss,_ ” Blackjack said, before shooting northbound.

 

Percy leaned into the Pegasus’ mane, closing his eyes. Reyna’s face kept replaying in his mind. She had been terrified. Of _him_. She had the same look on her face that his mother had, when she had seen what Gabe had done to him. It was burned into his mind now, along with the last memory he had of his mom. He didn’t want to be _that_ kind of person. He didn’t…he didn’t want to be like Gabe. Gabe, who had beaten him. Gabe, who had whipped him with a belt. Gabe, who had gone the extra step and gotten an actual whip so he could do it _properly._ That wasn’t who Percy was. It wasn’t him. _It wasn’t._

 

“ _Boss_?” Blackjack asked carefully, and Percy cracked his eyes open to see that they were circling the Wolf House. It took him a second to realise why. There was someone in it. Someone _powerful_. Percy didn’t recognise the power pulsing outwards, but in a way, it reminded him of his father.

 

“Set me down a bit outside,” he said, “I’ll investigate on foot.”

 

“ _You sure, boss?_ ” Blackjack neighed cautiously, “ _whatever’s down there reminds me of you._ ”

 

Reminded him of Percy? Now _that_ was interesting.

 

“I’m sure. C’mon, buddy, let me down.”

 

Blackjack came to a galloping halt a hundred yards from the Wolf House, in the next closest clearing, and Percy slid off his back, patting his neck a few times, before sending him away. Percy was unarmed saved for the _Pugio_ of Brutus, and that was mostly because he didn’t trust what would happen if someone else found it without knowing what it was.

 

All the artefacts he recovered were important to Roman history for one reason or another, shaping it in some form. The dagger, however, had a bloodthirst, and that was dangerous. Even know, Percy could feel it’s pull, the desire to thrust it into the body of someone who had betrayed him. He stamped that feeling down, and it receded to the back of his mind, quiet, but not gone. Why Juno and Mars had thought he should be the one cursed to bear this burden, he didn’t know. But he would carry it nonetheless.

 

He approached the Wolf House carefully, stretching his senses out, but there was no one else nearby, not even Lupa’s pack. Just one being, in the middle of the inner house, where Juno had been held. Percy crept through the house, barely making a sound, before he reached the source of the power. In the middle of the house was a cocoon made of some clear material. There was a figure in the middle of it, and Percy flinched when he studied her closer. She was maybe as tall as Reyna, and had long black hair just like her, but there was something different about her. He reached out, and the resulting flash of power almost burned him. Not because it was dangerous, but because it was _familiar_. It was _his_ power. He didn’t hesitate, drawing the dagger and thrusting it into the cocoon, opening it up and letting a ton of clear liquid rush out as the girl fell into his arms.

 

She was still, but breathing, and he gently lowered the both of them to the ground. After several moments, she gasped upright.

 

“Easy, easy,” he soothed, rubbing her back as she coughed up some of the liquid. “You were in a cocoon of some sort. I don’t know what was in it with you.”

 

That was when she turned to look at him, her mouth opening to say _something_. But the words died in her throat the same way that Percy stopped being able to breathe.

 

He was staring into a pair of Sea Green eyes. Just like his own.

 

Just like his father’s.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy meets a new sibling. Things get out of hand.

**_Percy_ **

****

If anyone had come across them at that moment, they’d probably think that they were two twins who had never met each other before. Which, knowing how weird the godly world was, might have actually been possible. The girl was studying him just as intently as he was her. It was like looking at a female version of his father—or, more accurately, himself. She, too, was taking in what he looked like.

 

“Who are you?” She finally asked. “Where am I?”

 

“Oh, man, this is going to be awkward,” he muttered under his breath, “I’m Percy Jackson. I think I’m your brother. As for where we are…it’s a place called the Wolf House, in California. We’re just under a day away from San Francisco, if we move slow.”

 

“You’re my brother?” She blinked. “I don’t…I don’t think I have a brother. But, uh, I can’t remember anything either. I know my name, and that’s about it.”

 

“Let’s start with that, then,” he offered gently, “maybe it can help us figure out how to help you?”

 

“My name is Andromeda,” she told him, “I-I think I have a last name, but I can’t remember it. I can’t remember anything. You’re…you said your name was Percy?”

 

“Percy Jackson,” he nodded, “Son of Neptune.”

 

It was a bit of a gambit, but there was a flash of recognition in her eyes at the name, before they became clouded over.

 

“Neptune…do you mean Poseidon?” She said after a while, and Percy fought very hard to not flinch. It seemed his guess was right. Juno’s plan was starting to unfold in his mind, and while he couldn’t help but disagree with it on a personal level, he mentally took a step back and re-ran everything he knew objectively—and found that he couldn’t find much fault in the plan.

 

“That’s what the _Graeci_ called him,” he explained carefully, “but he’s gone by Neptune for millennia now.”

 

“That doesn’t sound right?” She murmured to herself, “we’re siblings?”

 

“Half-siblings, I think,” Percy couldn’t help but feel pity for her. Jason hadn’t known who he was, and that was more hurtful than anything a blade could have done to him. This girl probably had dozens of friends just as concerned for her as Jason had for him. “Considering we look exactly alike, and unless we share a mother, which I doubt, half-siblings is my guess.”

 

“Do we know each other?”

 

“No, we’ve never met before today,” it was one of the few things he could say truthfully, “honestly, I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here. I kind of…ran off after having a tantrum, if we’re being honest.”

 

“Oh,” Andy said, “do you want to…talk about it?”  


“It’s nothing to trouble yourself with, sis,” he waved her off, “now, quick question, how fast of a learner are you?”

 

“I—I think I’m a quick study in some things, why?” She glanced at him curiously.

 

“You’ll need to go to the Legion,” he explained, “more on that later, but to join the legion, you have to be able to fight. Can you?”

 

“Honestly, I have a feeling it’s one of the few things I’m good at,” she admitted, rising to her feet and pulling a ball-point pen out of her pocket. He was about to ask why when she flicked the cap off, and the pen turned into a three-foot-long blade. Made of _celestial bronze_ of all things.

 

“Oh, okay then, that’s pretty cool,” he admitted, drawing the _pugio_ , “I don’t have my sword with me, so this is going to be an interesting match.”

 

But Andy wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the blade in his hand, and for a moment, he was worried she could feel the influence it had on people. But then she shook her head, eyes snapping to him.

 

“I think…I think I know someone who fights with a knife,” she said slowly, “but I _don’t remember_.”

 

“Hey, we’ll get your memory back,” he promised her, “but first, we need to see how well you fight, okay? Baby steps.”

 

“Baby steps,” she nodded. “Thank you, Percy.”

 

“We’re family,” he reminded her, “newly found or not, that’s a sacred thing to Romans. It’s not something to be forgotten lightly.”

 

She smiled at him, the same crooked grin that he had. Gods, was he looking at a clone, or were there just some things that were universal among the children of Neptune, Greek or Roman? He returned it, regardless, and settled into a fighting stance. His left hand was placed so that it obscured his right, making it harder for Andy to predict where his strike would come from. His sister’s stance was looser than he’d have liked, but his trepidation didn’t last long. She attacked first, which he normally would’ve considered a rookie mistake, except for one thing.

 

She was _really_ good. Percy had trained hard to become a duellist of unskilled parallel among the Romans. He had trained with _three_ gods to make sure he was the best, and always sought out people who could improve his skills. Jason came closest to him in skill. Andromeda was closer. She did have the added bonus of using a sword while he was stuck with a dagger, but even then, Percy knew their fight wouldn’t have been much different if he had his gladius.

 

Her attack was a whirlwind of movement, her bronze blade arcing towards him, forcing Percy to leap to the side to avoid the strike, but he didn’t let her hold the advantage for much longer, his pugio striking out towards her in a rapid blow. Andy didn’t even move, but her counter was perfect, a flick of the wrist that sent his blade six inches past her body, and left him dangerously over extended. At times like this, he could either try to bring a second strike back, or he could try to withdraw his blade back towards his body. She was quick, though, so he went for a third option, and instead threw a haymaker with his left hand, forcing Andy to duck under it, and that was when he struck. Rather than let her regain distance on him, he instead dropped the pugio, snatching it out of the air with his left hand, bringing it back in an ice-pick grip. Andy caught his wrist, but he had strength on her, and began pushing back. That was when she slipped a foot in between his legs and jerked it back. It was the same move that he had pulled on Zoe Nightshade several years prior. _Fool me once_ , he thought, as he rolled with the takedown, throwing her over him, before pinning her down with his hips, his dagger pointed at her throat.

 

_Kill kill KILL!_ the dagger screamed at him, and Percy could feel it’s pull, dangerously close to having an effect, so he got off her and pulled back, dropping the blade into its sheath. Andy rose to her feet, breathing slightly more than usual, which was how he was. But the fact that she had kept pace with him told him enough. She was a warrior. Not a soldier, but definitely a fighter. He could teach her.

 

“You know how to fight,” he grinned at her, “now I need to teach you how to be a _Roman_.”

 

**XXX**

“So wait, you were raised by a wolf for six years?”

 

“Closer to seven, but yeah,” he nodded, “Lupa. She’s great. I’m sure you’ll meet her once you get to New Rome, or maybe before. Honestly, I’m a little surprised she wasn’t here to help you. Maybe the _Parcae_ decided it needed to be a family reunion.”

 

“ _Parcae_ ,” she echoed, “the Fates?”

 

“Yeah, the Fates.”

 

“Okay, and can you run through the positions in the legion again? What I’ll go through?”

 

“Alright, so we have five cohorts, right?” He began, and at Andy’s nod, he continued, “the first is traditionally the best of the best, and only prospective legionaries with letters of recommendation from other members of the First get in. The First is commanded by the _Primus Pilus_ , which means ‘First File.’ That’s me. I’m the highest-ranking officer after the Praetors, and should they become incapacitated, I’d be in command. After the First is the Second, which isn’t quite as good, but still only takes those with letters of recommendation from members of the Second. They’re commanded by the _Pilus Posterior_ , which is Larry Byrd. Good guy, but totally unambitious.”

 

“Is that bad?” Andy frowned, “isn’t ambition one of the less desirable traits?”

 

“Not for Romans,” he explained, “a little bit of healthy ambition never hurt anyone. Larry’s content to serve as a Centurion, and he’s utterly loyal to Reyna, which _is_ good.”

 

“Okay. Continue?”

 

“After the Second, naturally, is the Third. This is where the standard drops a little. The Third will take people without letters of rec, but only if they know who their parent is, and normally they go for Olympians rather than minor gods. They’re commanded by Hank Jones, the _Princeps Prior_. Then there’s the Fourth, my original cohort. They’ll take anyone, and there’s a chance they may even take you. Their centurion is Leila Green, one of my best friends. She’s the _Princeps Posterior_. Finally, there’s the Fifth. They’ll take anyone, so they earned a reputation as the least skilled cohort, which is _not_ true. There’s also a dark history there, but that’s a story for another day. The Fifth was commanded by our cousin, Jason Grace, for about three years, but now they’re led by Gwen Abernathy. She’s the _Hastatus Posterior._ ”

 

Andy repeated each name and title quietly a few times.

 

“Jason…he’s the missing one? The Son of Ze-Jupiter?” She was still slipping at times, but to his surprise, Andromeda had adjusted rather quickly to the Roman names.

 

“Yeah, he’s great, you two will love each other,” he smiled at her, “he’s much nicer than I am.”

 

“Percy, you’ve literally spent the past three hours telling me your life story and helping me learn about New Rome,” Andy told him pointedly, “I think that you’ve more than proven that you’re nice.”

 

“You’re family,” he argued, “it’s different.”

 

“Are you saying that if I weren’t your sister, you’d be mean to me?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

 

“Well, no, but I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, either.” He admitted, “look, Andy, I’m…an easy person to get along with. But it’s not because I’m a genuinely good person. Do you understand what I mean?”

 

“Honestly, you’re making it sound like you’re a politician, which is…I don’t want to even _think_ about politicians.” She shook her head, but she was grinning. An optimist, but a bit naïve. “Look, Percy, I think, based on everything you’ve told me, that you’re a _really_ good person, but you’ve built this…this idea of who you need to be. I don’t know who I am. I don’t remember anything about myself, but I still _feel_ like I’m who I’m meant to be. Can you say the same?”

 

“No,” he admitted with a sigh, “I…I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I was raised to be more than a soldier. A leader. I’ve been taught military tactics, politics, anything that might help me lead New Rome to greatness, but I’ve consistently been told by the gods that it’s not _my_ place to lead. First, it was Jason, the Son of Jupiter, who was supposed to lead the legion. Now it’s…well, I suppose it’s you who I’m supposed to step aside from. I don’t know _why_ they keep doing it to me, either.”

 

“The gods are assholes,” Andy said as if it were the simplest thing in the world before pausing, “I…I don’t know why I said that, but it felt natural.”

 

He almost quirked an eyebrow at her, but managed to avoid doing so.

 

“Alright, let’s look at it this way,” she offered instead, “the gods are telling you not to lead the _legion_ , right?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“But what about _New Rome_?” She grinned at him again, “it’s like you said, Percy. You’ve been trained to be more than just a soldier. You’ve been looking at it as if you’re meant to be a general, but what if that’s not the case? What’s Rome most famous for?”

 

“The legions?”

 

“Which conquered…?” she pressed onwards, and realisation struck him.

 

“An empire,” he finished, “what, you think I should make myself emperor?”

 

“Nah, you wouldn’t be so obvious,” Andy said, as if she had him pinned down, which, Percy slowly realised with some amazement, she actually did. “You’d have someone else do it, thinking it was their idea. Tell me I’m wrong.”

 

“ _How are you a real person_?” He breathed out, “No one, not _one_ person, has ever marked me so quickly, and been right. How in Jupiter’s Balls did you figure me out?”

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted shyly, “but I think it’s because you and I are a lot alike, Percy. I don’t remember anything from my past, but…well, listening to your story, listening to you describe yourself…it sounds…right.”

 

“Maybe,” he conceded, “but I don’t have a badass silver streak in my hair like you do. It’s not hair-dye, is it?”

 

“I dunno,” she shrugged, smiling at him again. He liked his sister. She was a lot like Jason, he decided, and anyone like Jason was a good person. “So, what’s next?”

 

“What’s next is that we continue teaching you to be ready for New Rome,” he told her, “the legion won’t go easy on you, _especially_ because you’re a daughter of Neptune. There might be some respect that comes from being related to me, or depending on how my tantrum was taken, you might be looked at with even more suspicion than usual. So really, be ready for anythi—”

 

“Look out!” Andy cried out, shoving him aside. He watched in horror as an arrow caught her in the throat and—shattered? What? “I—I’m okay? How am I okay?”

 

“Well, well, well,” a deep voice rumbled, and loud thumping indicated a new arrival. Andy moved to his side, helping him to his feet as she drew her sword, while he slipped his dagger from its sheath on his thigh. “ _Two_ children of Neptune. How promising.”

 

A giant emerged from the forest, thirty feet tall and with legs that reminded Percy of a Komodo dragon. His upper body was human, and covered with a breastplate wrought with the faces of monsters. Green hair like that of a snake hung from his body. He carried a trident the size of a telephone pole, and Percy felt his blood run cold.

 

“Polybotes,” he whispered, and the same feeling of dread he had felt when facing Porphyrion returned.

 

“So you know who I am, sea spawn!” The giant seemed delighted by that, “and not only that, you’re _scared_ of me. Wonderful. Capturing the two of you will make this war _so_ much easier.”

 

“Andy,” Percy said slowly, “you need to head south, towards Caldecott Tunnel. There’s an entrance in the side of the tunnel, which will lead you to New Rome. Find Reyna, and tell her what happened here, okay?”

 

“We can take him, Percy,” his sister shook her head, “it’s just one giant!”

 

“He’s the bane of Neptune, not some joe-blow giant,” he said, “we’d need a god to beat him. Andy, _go to New Rome_. I’ll hold him off.”

 

“Percy—”

 

“Go!” He shouted at her, and she flinched, before nodding and running off.

 

“Euryale, Stheno, follow and kill her,” Polybotes ordered, “I’ll handle this upstart.”

 

“This upstart has killed a Titan,” he snarled, “and I was present for the ass kicking that your boss got from Juno, so I wouldn’t count me out just yet, you slimy piece of roadkill.”

 

He was aware of two figures darting around the clearing, going to follow Andy, but he didn’t have time to focus on them, mostly because he was trying very hard to keep his attention on Polybotes, and not on his rapidly increasing heartbeat. Polybotes carried a massive trident, and Percy dove under it as he swung it like a baseball bat. He had no idea how he was going to prolong this, because he only had a dagger—a blood-thirsty dagger that wanted him to always be killing—and nothing else. Well, he had his powers, but he wasn’t sure how useful they would be in this situation.

 

He slid under Polybotes’ legs, his dagger scoring a thin cut along the flesh, which only seemed to infuriate the giant more than hurt him, because Percy then found himself flung backwards by a particularly fierce stomp. Thankfully, something caught him before he could slam into a tree. Unfortunately, it was an earthborn giant that caught him. He flailed for a moment, trying to find somewhere to ram his dagger, but then he was thrown again, and this time, a tree _did_ catch him. And something broke. Several somethings.

 

Percy groaned loudly and rolled onto his back. If he had been wearing armour, it might not have been as bad, but unfortunately, he hadn’t been, and now not only was he injured, but he was unarmed. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, and his eyes scanned for the Dagger of Brutus, before all hope left his body. It was ten feet to his right, but there were six cyclopes between him and it. Things were, admittedly, not looking good, and Percy was about to fall back on the one thing he hadn’t particularly _wanted_ to.

 

“Well, son of Neptune, are you going to give in now?” Polybotes taunted, “your father will be devastated when I kill you. It will take him out of this war, and without him, Olympus will fall. After I kill you, I’ll hunt down that sister of yours, and I’ll kill her too. Then, and only then, will I go after your father. Weakened, mourning, and utterly _unprepared._ ”

 

That was when Percy exploded. Thunder cracked in the air as the sky darkened and the winds began to pick up. And they got stronger, and stronger, and stronger. The cyclopes and giants around him began to be pushed back as the winds swirled, snatching debris and dirt from the ground. A prolonged crack ended with a beam from the Wolf House detaching from the structure, impaling two monsters, before breaking into smaller chunks as the wind tore it apart. It was raining hard now, and even here, miles and miles from the beach, he could feel the waves churning and slamming into the shore. Evacuations would start soon, but he had other things to focus on. Specifically, the little hurricane that he was creating around him, the one that was starting to pull the monsters upwards, forcing them to slam their spears and swords into the earth. Polybotes was unaffected, but he was watching Percy with far too much interest for his liking.

 

Percy let out a scream as lightning fell from the skies, striking erratically, sometimes hitting a monster, sometimes hitting a tree, but mostly hitting the ground uselessly. One hit Polybotes, but he just grunted slightly as it ran through him. It didn’t matter, Percy knew he wasn’t going to take him out, but if he could shred the hired help to pieces…

 

Eventually, Polybotes decided he had had enough. He took three lumbering steps towards Percy and flicked him backwards into another tree, one of the few that was still standing at this point. That was when his vision went black.

 

**_XXX_ **

****

When he awoke, it was because he was being jostled up and down. It took Percy far longer than he would’ve liked to open his eyes, and when he finally _did_ get them open, he found himself in a cell. There were two Cyclopes standing guard outside of it, and they knew the moment he was awake. It wasn’t long before another twelve Cyclopes joined him in the room, which was…rocking? Percy blinked. The entire room was swaying back and forth, like the motion of a ship at sea. He tried to lift himself up, but his body refused to obey, and a jolt of pain shot through his leg. It was broken, again. At least he had made it nearly nine months. Or maybe more, depending on how long he had been unconscious.

 

“So you’re awake,” Polybotes’ voice was like wet sandpaper, and it grated every nerve in Percy’s body. “I’m surprised. You almost woke up a few times, but I had my servants here beat you back into a deep sleep.”

 

“ ‘m I sup’sed t’ than’ you?” Percy mumbled out, the pain shooting to his jaw as he tried to speak. That was broken too, then.

 

“Well I never turn down adulation,” the giant laughed, “but no, there’s no need to thank me. I’m not sure you would if I asked, regardless.”

 

“Smar’ ma’,” Percy spat, before deciding talking was too hard.

 

“I’m not a man, you ignorant cur,” Polybotes growled, “I am one of the Gigantes, a superior race of immortal destined to take over the rulership of the world. My power is unparalleled. Your father can’t stop me.”

 

_He has before,_ Percy wanted to say, but he bit his tongue—metaphorically, of course—and instead just stared defiantly at Polybotes, as if saying, _I don’t believe you_. The goading worked, because Polybotes, hefted Percy to his feet, which sent yet another wave of pain through his body that made him see white. When his vision returned, it was because he was hit by a spray of sea mist. The salty air rejuvenated him slightly, and when his eyes returned to normal, he found himself on the deck of a yacht.

 

“My magic is so strong that Neptune has no idea you’re even here,” Polybotes taunted, “right in his domain, and he can’t see you. How does that make you feel, sea-spawn?”

 

Percy’s body was going into overdrive trying to heal him, so he just weakly lifted his hand, giving Polybotes an archaic salute to display displeasure. The giant growled at him, so he changed it to a thumbs up. He felt his jaw click back into place with a tug of pain, and he subtly gathered some more water from the air, letting it soak into his body. Neptune’s Bane didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he wasn’t bothered by it. Percy knew his ability to heal could only take him so far, so he redirected the water to the most essential parts of his body—his legs, arm, and torso. Ribs reknitted themselves and bones healed rapidly, weak, but unbroken. Another few hours, and he’d be well enough to plot an escape.

 

It was just a matter of if he’d even be _alive_ to. Polybotes was taking him somewhere, and his senses were muddled, but it seemed to be northwards. If that was the case, Percy had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly where he was being taken, and if he were right, then he was positively screwed. The only thing waiting for him were ghosts.

 

But if he was going to die, then dying with the eagle in his sight would be a worthy one.

****

**_Andromeda_ **

****

Andy was sick of running. The two Gorgons, Euryale and Stheno, had been following her for nearly a day, trying to sell her poisoned sausage-bites, and resurrecting almost immediately after she killed them. So far, she had slain the duo fifteen times, and she was _really_ getting sick of them. The one bonus she had going for her was that somehow, her skin was impenetrable, so they couldn’t really hurt her. Of course, that didn’t really help when she was getting close to passing out from exhaustion.

 

She skidded along the path she was following as it ended with a cliff, overlooking a long highway. In the distance, to her left, she could just barely make out the beginning of a tunnel. She prayed to every god she could think of that it was Caldecott Tunnel, and then she began planning a way to get down there. She could…just throw herself, but that would still hurt. She could try to find a trail, but that might lead her away, or she could—

 

“Free sausage bites!” Euryale called out from behind her. Andy whirled around, coming face to face with the Gorgon, who held up the platter of poisoned meat.

 

Platter. She had a decently sized platter in her hands, that had survived the beatings throughout the day.

 

“Just kill her!” Stheno yelled as she caught up with them, but by then, Andy had made her decision, and her blade whipped out, decapitating the two as she snatched the platter with her free hand. Almost immediately, their bodies began reforming from the dust, but Andy had launched herself off the edge of the cliff, using the platter as a surf-board, or more accurately, as a sled, to zip down the mountain side. “After her!” She heard from above, but it was then that she slammed into the road, bouncing several feet before rolling into the divider on the ocean-side of the highway.

 

Even now, she could feel the sea calling to her, promising protection. She was tempted to take it. But she couldn’t. Percy, her newly found and newly lost brother, had sacrificed his freedom, and maybe his life, to allow her to escape and reach New Rome. She owed it to him at the very least to make it there.

 

She rose to her feet, swearing as cars swerved around her, and then swearing again when she saw the two Gorgons making their way towards her at high speed. She took off towards the tunnel, dashing across to the opposite side of the highway before she continued her run towards safety.

 

She almost collided with an old lady standing by a side door in the tunnel, but almost immediately, she knew something was up with her.

 

“Hi, sorry, who are you?” She asked, earning a wide smile from the old lady.

 

“You can call me June, dear,” the lady replied, “would you be a dear and carry me into the camp?”

 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Andy sighed, “would June happen to be a nickname for Juno? Percy told me about you.”

 

“Clever girl,” Juno chuckled, “just like your brother. Yes, Andromeda, I am Juno. Now, if you want to make it safely into New Rome, you’ll put me on your back, and carry me through the tunnel. Do you want to waste more of our time, or is this acceptable to you?”

 

“Fine, let’s do this,” she sighed, and June hopped on her back, arms wrapped around her neck.

 

Andy began running down the tunnel, the taunts of the Gorgons behind her revealing they hadn’t given up the hunt yet. She rounded a corner and found herself facing two armoured teens.

 

“Hi, I’m Andromeda, this is June, and we’re being chased by two Gorgons,” she said, “this is Camp Jupiter?”

 

“How did you find this place?” one of the two asked, a shorter girl with a long sword in her hand that seemed just a little _too_ big.

 

“Percy Jackson told me about it,” she said, “he’s my brother, and he’s in trouble, so can we please move before these Gorgons reach us?”

 

The girl hesitated a moment before nodding.

 

“Frank, fire a few arrows down the tunnel and hold off the Gorgons. I’ll take Andromeda to Reyna.”

 

“On it, Hazel,” the second, larger boy answered, quickly firing off three around before advancing further down the tunnel.

 

Hazel led her through the dark, twisting path, before they emerged into the sunlight. There was a city ahead of them, and half-built walls ringing it. A few moments after they exited the tunnel, Frank came sprinting out, a cut on his cheek.

 

“They keep reforming!” He cried out, “I ran out of arrows pretty quick.

 

“The river,” Juno whispered in her ear.

 

“We need to go to the river,” she said, before taking off.

 

“You should know, girl, that if you cross the Little Tiber, you’ll no longer be invulnerable,” Juno told her, “it’s a Greek curse, and it’ll be washed away by the Roman magic.”

 

“I don’t have a choice,” she snapped, running up to the river. Hazel and Frank reached her shortly after, and she could see Stheno and Euryale closing in on them.

 

Andy closed her eyes, and thrust her hands out.

 

“By the Black Stone,” she heard Hazel whisper.

 

Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the two hands of water she had formed from the river. She used each one to grab the gorgons, before pulling them under the surface, crushing them and then dispersing their remains as far apart as she could. Juno was still a heavy presence on her back, and she nearly collapsed from the exhaustion of the past day.

 

“Frank, Hazel!” A new voice snapped, and the clattering of armour drew Andy’s attention behind her, where an armoured girl her age was approaching. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Andy standing there.

 

Juno clambered down from her back, and suddenly the Romans gasped, dropping to their knees. Andy glanced at the old woman, who no longer was wearing the floral dress from before, but instead a long robe and a goatskin shawl.

 

“Romans,” she said firmly, “I present to you Andromeda Jenkins, daughter of Neptune. She carried me over the Tiber. My word is her recommendation. I leave her in your care.”

 

The armoured girl stepped forward once Juno was gone, studying Andy closely.

 

“Andromeda Jenkins,” she tested the name, but there was a familiarity in her voice that Andy didn’t miss.

 

“Do we…know each other?” She asked, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything from before Percy woke me up.”

 

“You’ve seen Percy?” The girl’s gaze snapped back to her eyes, “where is he? Is he okay?”

 

“Uh, I don’t know, and I don’t know,” she said, “we were ambushed by Polybotes, or something like that. Percy told me to come here while he held him off. He said I needed to find Reyna and tell her what happened. Are…are you Reyna?”

 

“I am,” She nodded, “come with me. It seems we need to talk in private,” she glanced over at Hazel and Frank. “Good job, you two. Return to your posts.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” they nodded. Reyna led her through the crowd, further into the city. The last thing Andy heard was the whispering from the crowd that had assembled.

 

“Did you see her pick up the river? I’ve never seen Percy do _that!_ ”

 

“You weren’t at Orthys,” someone else said, “he nearly blew up the mountain, and used a hurricane to incapacitate a Titan. But yeah, that was impressive.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Held captive by Polybotes, Percy must plan his escape

**_Percy_ **

****

Percy still didn’t know where he was, but the temptation to just throw himself overboard and wing it from there was becoming stronger and stronger with each passing hour. The beatings had stopped, thankfully, but Polybotes was still committed to mentally playing with him as much as possible. Though he sucked at it, if he was honest, because he clearly didn’t understand just how aware Percy was about what he was doing. But he could use that to his advantage.

 

“My power dwarfs that of your fathers!” Polybotes was crowing, “all of your injuries can be healed with a snap of my fingers, and you wouldn’t need to use your scant breaths of sea-air to heal yourself.”

 

“That _is_ pretty useful,” Percy said, trying to sound impressed, but honestly, the Trojan Sea Monster had done more damage than Polybotes’ crew of morons could ever hope to inflict. “my father doesn’t really have a reputation for healing, so I wouldn’t know how skilled he is.”

 

Another blatant lie, but the Giant’s ego was something else, because he laughed loudly.

 

“Then I shall demonstrate!” He said, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. There was a feeling a warmth, but it felt different than when his father had healed him. It felt _wrong,_ like standing too close to a fire. Regardless, it did the job, and all the remaining injuries were healed, along with a few he probably didn’t know existed. “Ah, how interesting…injuries from your battle with Krios that never healed properly. Had I left it be, you would’ve developed a limp in twenty years. Now, you will be healthy until the day you die…which could still be soon, if I so choose.”

 

“Then I thank you for the mercy you’re showing now,” Percy said, before frowning deeply, “it’s not something I expected from an immortal of your reputation. I suppose it makes you better than my father in that regard.”

 

“Is that so?” the Gigantes leaned forward, “Neptune is not known for his mercy, I suppose.”

 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he agreed, “my father is famous for his temper and little else. After seeing his shrine at New Rome, I can understand.”

 

“Perhaps if he were more powerful, they’d respect him as much as they did Jupiter,” Polybotes said, and Percy knew that the pitch would follow. “You should know that my mother doesn’t want to destroy your camp. You have the strength to lead them. If you pledge yourself to Terra, she will allow New Rome to go unharmed.”  
  


“I-I don’t know,” Percy did his best at sounding unsure, “Lupa always said that loyalty was all we had in the world.”

 

Well, not exactly, but the message had been close enough.

 

“That’s alright, my boy,” Polybotes had switched from warden to mentor in a flash, thinking that he had hooked Percy as a potential asset, “I will let you mull over the decision, but consider this before I go—is loyalty to your fellow demigods not worth more than loyalty to absent gods?”

 

The door to the room he was being held in clicked shut softly, and the lights cut out moments later. Then, and only then, did Percy allow a smile to cross his features. That had been far easier than he’d expected it to be. Or maybe Polybotes thought he was broken enough by the beatings that he’d cling to any sign of friendship.

 

But Lupa and Salacia had taught him better than that—the former had put him through some gruelling tests just shy of actual torture, while the latter had told him about all the different ways his enemies would try to manipulate them. Their lessons hadn’t necessarily run in the direction Percy was going, but a good student knew to look elsewhere for information, and not just rely on one source. In Percy’s case, he had read about the military’s SERE courses.

 

If he played his cards right, he could convince Polybotes to take him onto the deck under armed guard, and _that_ was when he could escape. If the Giant was physically next to him, it would be next to impossible, but if it were just monster, he was home free. Then it was just a matter of evading Gaea’s forces until he was somewhere safe. If there was somewhere safe, but he’d cross the bridge when he got to it.

 

He took a deep breath in, and stood up. It was still pitch black in his room, but that wasn’t a problem—he had memorised the layout the first day. There was no ache, no flare of pain as he stood, which really showed just how well Polybotes had healed him. He ran his hand along his face, prodding at his jaw, and again, no pain. What surprised him most was how smooth his skin was. There should’ve been a scar—oh. Polybotes _had_ done a good job. He reached behind his back to feel there and…there was no scarring either. A quick glide over his calves confirmed it. Polybotes had healed _all_ of his injuries.

 

Percy wasn’t sure how he felt about that. His scars had long been a testimony to the journey he had gone through to become the person he was. To have them just gone…it was like he was being a clean slate to be someone else…which was probably the intention that Polybotes had. He was trying to make it _okay_ for Percy to be different, to be new. The Gigante was far cleverer than Percy had given him credit for.

 

He wasn’t going to lie, he was a little bothered by how quickly he picked it up, because if anything, it just meant that he understood Polybotes on a level that went deeper than manipulation—Percy would’ve done the same if he were trying to flip an asset. Maybe he needed to take a step back from all his machinations and consider the type of person he was becoming, if he could not only understand, but approve of the methods his captor was using to try and convert him.

 

**XXX**

“Walk with me,” Polybotes said, the fifth day of his capture, and lead Percy onto the deck of the yacht they were on, “your sister is making her way to Alaska on a fool’s errand to find and rescue Thanatos, and recover the Eagle of the Twelfth as well.”

 

“Alaska’s a death wish,” Percy blinked, remember the tales he had heard from Dustin, who in turn had heard them from the survivors of the Alaskan expedition, “why would the Legion send them there?”

 

“Not the legion,” Polybotes shook his head, “ _Mars Ultor_ , at the command of Juno.”

 

“I see,” Percy said softly, “how…interesting.”

 

“They did something similar to you, did they not?” the Giant asked him, “sent you on a quest that by all rights should have failed?”

 

“It’s the way of the gods,” he argued weakly, “they can’t interfere themselves, so we aid them as we can.”

 

“Am I not here, interacting with you?” Polybotes challenged, and, oh, how Percy wished he had an actual retort for that. “Exactly. The laws that you say prevent them from interfering are self-imposed. They _choose_ not to help you, Perseus. They never will. But mother…mother only wants what’s best for you. If you swear to her, you will never lose another friend to war, to the machinations of gods.”

 

“I—” he drifted off, casting his eyes downwards. “I don’t know anymore,” he said softly, “it’s just _so_ much.”

 

“I know,” Polybotes placed a reassuring hand on Percy’s shoulder, “take a moment and consider it. Joel will take you back to your room when you’re ready.”

 

Percy’s hand twitched, but it was so subtle that if Polybotes noticed it, he attributed it to simply being given some extension of his leash. Percy bowed his head to the Titan and stayed stock still as Polybotes left. If he were an idiot, he’d escape now, but they’d be expecting that. After nearly ten minutes, he turned to the Cyclops watching him closely and nodded. The monster took him by the arm and began taking him back to his room, but there was none of the dragging and manhandling that had been there before. It was clear to the creatures serving Polybotes that Percy wasn’t to be treated the same as before.

 

Now it was time to be patient.

 

**XXX**

It turned out he didn’t need to be patient long. Half a day later, what Percy imagined was sunrise, he had been kneeling in his room, meditating, when the door flung open and the Cyclops from before, Joel, came marching in.

 

“Deck time,” the monster grunted, and swept his hands towards the door. Percy followed silently, and the moment he stepped out onto the deck, he knew it was going to be now. Polybotes was nowhere to be seen—in fact, Percy couldn’t even feel his presence on the ship, which meant one very important, key factor.

 

He was now the most powerful being on board. Still, he cast his senses wide, making sure the Giant wasn’t trailing in the water, but there was no indicator that he was doing so.

 

“Ten minutes,” Joel said, before taking a step back. Percy stared at the open sea, letting his senses flood into him. They were off the west coast of Washington state, twenty seven, to be exact, which was childsplay for Percy.

 

“You’ve been a great host, Joel,” Percy told the Cyclops, who’s one eye blinked in surprise, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

 

Percy leapt of the deck of the yacht into the water, summoning a wave to slam into the port side of the ship, rocking it away from him. He didn’t stop there though—while the water was still sweeping over the deck, he reached out to it and pulled it downwards. There was resistance for several moments, but in the face of the sheer display of power, the yacht caved first, literally, splitting in half down the bow as it was dragged under the waves.

 

“Screw you, you weird lizard prick,” Percy muttered before turning eastward towards the shore. It would take him some time to reach land, and he wanted to be as far from the water as he could before Polybotes realised what he had done. He was unarmed, the dagger of Brutus lost to the sea until he could retrieve it, which could be never, but thankfully he still had his armour. They hadn’t taken that from him, at the very least.

 

An hour later, he stumbled onto a rocky beach, making it maybe twenty steps before he collapsed from exhaustion. The adrenaline that had been sustaining him for the past five days was all but gone, and he felt a deep ache set into his bones, even with having soaked in saltwater. Percy rolled onto his back and stared at the sky. He was somewhere in Washington, unarmed, and miles from the nearest friendly location—the Amazon headquarters.

 

There was a sudden itch on his wrist, and scratching it didn’t help, so he looked to see what was there. Nothing. But there _was_ a golden dagger resting just to the left of his hand, which the last he had seen was being held by some Cyclops or another. The Dagger of Brutus should not have been _right_ next to him, no matter what. There was deeper magic at play. Still, he wasn’t one to look a gift-dagger in the mouth, even if that gift-dagger _was_ an incredibly bloodthirsty one, so he slipped it into his belt and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

 

Now that he was on land, his sense of direction and navigation was muddled, but he’d have to keep heading east to reach Seattle, and hopefully from there he’d find the Amazons were willing to help him again. If not it would be a long walk to New Rome. And then it would be the tedious process of begging forgiveness from Reyna, Lupa, and the Senate and hoping they didn’t strip him of his rank and status as a legionary, assuming they hadn’t already passed a _Damnatio Memoriae_ on him. He really hoped they hadn’t.

 

**XXX**

An hour of walking found him beside a road in the middle of a forest. A van was screaming its way down the street, and Percy had an inkling that it maybe wasn’t in his best interest to remain in plain sight. Unfortunately for Percy’s gut-feeling, he made the decision to ignore it, and remained still on the shoulder as the van came to a roaring halt in front of him, the doors sliding open to reveal five Amazons inside.

 

“You,” one of them pointed, “Otrera wants to speak with you. Get in.”

 

They didn’t really give him an option, grabbing and pulling him into the van. One of the Amazons yanked the dagger from his belt.

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said mildly, “that dagger is a dark relic. Has a bit of a mind of its own. It could drive you mad and make you want to kill everyone in this van and then yourself.”

 

The girl scoffed, but to his surprise, handed the blade back to him. He slipped it back into his belt, and folded his hands across his chest as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

“This isn’t a spa trip,” the Amazon to his right elbowed him, “what are you doing in our territory?”

 

“First, since when is the entire state of Washington the territory of the Amazons?” Percy asked, “and second, I’m not here by _choice_. I had to sink an entire ship just to get here. If I had things my way, I’d have been back in New Rome almost a week ago, with my new sister.”

 

“Yes, we’ve met _that_ troublemaker,” the Amazon interrogating him muttered, “Otrera will wish to speak with you once she’s queen. Do not expect to survive the meeting.”

 

“You know, you girls used to be cool, but now you’re kind of acting like a bit—” A fist slammed into his jaw, his heard jerking to the side with an audible _crack_ in response. “Alright, fair enough.”

 

Then, her words registered in his mind.

 

“Hasn’t Otrera been dead for like…ages?”

 

“Be quiet,” the Amazon snapped, “all will be made clear soon.”

 

“Wonderful,” Percy muttered, doing circles with his jaw. It had been a solid hit.

 

He used the rest of the trip to study the Amazons, subtly of course, because he valued everything that made him male, and what he found didn’t look that great. Rather than the dress-suits they had worn outside of battle, these ones were all armoured in the traditional fashion, and instead of Hylla’s usual livery beside the symbol of the Amazons, there was another one, that of a female archer riding a horse. Add in the fact that a woman named Otrera wanted to meet him, he figured that things were not looking so favourably for him.

 

When they finally reached their destination, he was manhandled from the van passed a gaggle of Amazons, some of whom he recognised and recognised him in turn. Soon, the hallways became familiar, and he found himself in the throne room, where Hylla was facing off against another armoured woman, neither with weapons drawn but looking like it wasn’t far off. Both turned to face the new arrival—him—and while Hylla looked surprised beyond belief, the one who could only be Otrera was very clearly relieved.

 

“Ah yes, the sea-spawn,” Otrera grinned, “my loyal followers had no trouble finding you then?”

 

“Well considering they found me before even _I_ knew where I was,” Percy drawled, “I’d say yeah, no trouble.”

 

“My, you _are_ a mouthy one,” Otrera prowled forward, “that will need to be beaten from you.”

 

“What, am I supposed to be scared?” He laughed, “I’ve just spent the past five in the tender care of Polybotes, and the beatings only stopped two days ago. You’ll need to try a lot harder.”

 

“What is this?” Hylla demanded, “Percy is a friend to the Amazons, not some common prisoner!”

 

“He’s certainly not common,” Otrera agreed, “and he will show me the proper respect. I am Otrera, Queen of the Amazons, Daughter of Eurus, Bride of Ares, mother to Hippolyta and Pentheselia!”

 

“You are _not_ Queen yet!” Kinzie protested, but Hylla raised a hand to cut her off.

 

“Wow, impressive titles,” Percy smirked up at her, “want to hear mine?”

 

“You dare—” One of the Amazons holding him started to protest, but that was when Percy moved, shooting to his feet, snapping her spear over his forearm as he shoved the other guard away from him. All the Amazons, loyal to Otrera and Hylla alike dropped into a battle stance.

 

“I am Percy Jackson, Son of Neptune,” he growled, “ _Primus Pilus_ of the Twelfth Legion, the Titan-Killer. I brought Krios to his knees, and I killed the Trojan Sea monster! I fought the King of the Giants and walked away from the fight with nothing but bruises. I’ve killed countless monsters, and faced being far more intimidating than a _dead woman_ and her posse. If you want to frighten me Otrera, you’ve failed miserably. If you wanted to _impress_ me, then consider that to be a failure too.”

 

Otrera was glaring at him, but hadn’t made any moves. Percy’s hand was hovering over the Dagger of Brutus as he glared right back.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he goaded, “right now, it’s running through your mind. You’re asking yourself, _can I beat this boy_? Part of you, the prideful part, is saying yes. But that part of you deep inside, the part that’s screaming louder than anything else, the part that advocates survival is telling you _no_. So which one will you listen to? Will your pride lead to a second death, or will survival prevail?”

 

“I don’t _need_ to fight you, boy,” Otrera said after a long moment, “Gaea wants you alive. But…your attitude needs correcting. Beat him within an inch of his life, but make sure he lives.”

 

Her guards leapt into action, but Percy had been expecting it. His elbow caught one in the nose, breaking it and sending her to her knees as he rounded on the others.

 

“Big mistake,” he told them, “I’ve been keyed for a fight for days. It sucks that you have to deal with the consequences of that.”

 

He struck before they could, punching one of them in the throat as his foot planted itself into another’s knee, breaking it with an ugly _crack_.  He ducked under a staff, ramming his head into the wielder’s jaw before bringing his head back down in a headbutt, breaking another nose in the process. He caught the next strike in his hands and stripped the weapon from the Amazon’s hands before swinging it into her temple, sending her crumpling to the ground.

 

Just like that, no one else approached him, all the others keeping their distance. He tossed the staff aside, and turned back to Otrera, who was clearly aware she was losing control of the situation.

 

“Hylla!” She cried out, “by the laws of our people, I challenge you to a fight for leadership!”

 

“Such a fight is to the death,” Hylla noted, but drew her sword, “are you sure you’re ready to return to the Underworld so soon?”

 

Otrera launched into an attack while laughing, which Percy found disconcerting. He wasn’t even aware that he had taken a step forward until Kinzie grabbed his arm. He whirled on her without really meaning to, and she flinched in response.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said.

 

“No, it was dumb of me to do that,” Kinzie admitted, but she didn’t remove her arm from his arm, “this is between the two of them. Besides, you’ve already eliminated some of our best fighters, I don’t want to imagine what you could do to Otrera.”

 

“You’re right,” he said, and she blinked at him in surprise. His gaze narrowed on the former Queen of the Amazons, “you don’t want to know what I could do to her.”

 

“Uhm, right,” Kinzie said, “just…watch. If things don’t go Hylla’s way, then-then feel free to level the place. Just let me get her loyalists out first.”

 

Percy stared at her for a moment before nodding. He turned his attention back to the fight between the two. Hylla was holding her own, parrying a strike before she pirouetted around a stab, bringing her own sword down across Otrera’s body. The queen collapsed to the ground, and Hylla took a step back and started sheathing her sword, breathing heavily.

 

Then Otrera gasped and pulled herself to her feet.

 

“I am not dead, clearly,” she grinned evilly, and Percy wanted to scream, “so the fight continues, dear Hylla.”

 

Hylla grunted in response, and attacked before Otrera could again, starting a flurry of strikes that were masterfully crafted by Percy’s new least-favourite Amazon. Despite the first fight only lasting a few minutes, it was clear that Otrera was no longer underestimating her opponent, and for each strike of Hylla’s that landed, one of Otrera’s did as well.

 

Percy watched as the fight stalemated, neither side able to get an opening, but Hylla, having already fought one duel, was flagging, while Otrera seemed rejuvenated in every sense of the word. Dying had clearly done her a favour. Percy just wished it had lasted longer than a second. Hylla took a gash to the leg that sent her to her knee, and Otrera raised her blade to strike. Hylla slid her sword under Otrera’s boot and pried it upwards, sending the older woman crashing to the ground. She scrambled on top of her, placed her blade directly above the womans heart, and thrust downwards, cutting through armour and stopping all of Otrera’s attempts to buck her off in an instant. She didn’t withdraw the blade, breaths coming out ragged as she waited for any signs of revival. After another minute, she withdrew the blade and took a step back. Still, Otrera remained still.

 

“All hail Hylla Twice-Kill!” An Amazon in the crowd called out, “Queen of the Amazons!”

 

“Hylla Twice-Kill!” The Amazons began chanting, but Percy couldn’t find it in himself to join them. Less than fifteen minutes ago, half of them would have been fine with Otrera winning, and that would’ve led to him being captured— _again_.

 

“Wrap her body in a shroud and burn it,” Hylla ordered, motioning to Otrera’s body, “the forges will do nicely. Get a medic in here for those foolish girls, and then put them in the brig to serve as a lesson for obeying another over their queen.”

 

The Amazons leapt into action, and Percy had to admit that he was still impressed with just how cohesive they could be. Not to legion standards of course, but not far off. Hylla approached him, her breathing still heavy, but not as bad as it could be.

 

“Interesting day for both of us,” she said, “walk with me. We need to talk.”

 

He followed her through the halls towards a large, unorganised room. Hylla tossed her sword onto a table and then began fiddling with the straps of her armour. Percy turned away immediately, locking his eyes onto the point where the wall met the roof.

 

“How polite,” he heard her drawl, followed by a thud, “Reyna’s a lucky girl. I’m not naked, you moron, you can turn around.”

 

Percy did so slowly, but she _was_ wearing clothes, so his gaze returned to her eyes.

 

“I met your sister two days ago,” she told him casually, “she and her companions freed Arion.”

 

“Companions?”

 

“Right, you were missing,” Hylla nodded, “Your sister Andy, who by the way destroyed Reyna and I’s first home, came here seeking our help against Gaea’s army. Andy had Reyna’s ring, and another private request that I help find you if possible. Otrera beat me to that, obviously.”

 

“You wouldn’t have been able to do anything,” he said quickly, “if I hadn’t escaped, I probably would have ended up in Alaska anyway.”

 

“And I wouldn’t have gotten to see _that_ frightening display of skill,” Hylla gave him a pointed look, “since you were defending yourself, I’ll let it slide, but if you ever hit an Amazon like that again, you’ll be fighting more than five of them.”

 

“Hylla, you’re trying to be threatening, but like I told Otrera, I’ve had a really bad five days. It won’t work.” He told her patiently, “I’m guessing that Andy and her quest had another task?”

 

“Freeing Thanatos and closing the Doors of Death,” she informed him, “it looks like they succeeded. Lucky for me too.”

 

“It was, Hylla Twice-Kill.” He grinned at her, “are you going to help New Rome?”

 

“I will, if you never call me that again, _Titan-Killer_ ,” she gave him a pointed look.

 

“That was a bit inaccurate,” he said casually, “they actually call me God-Killer. It sounds better, apparently.”

 

“It does roll of the tongue more smoothly,” Hylla agreed, before frowning at him, “didn’t you have a scar on your cheek?”

 

“Ah. Yeah, that,” Percy grimaced, “I kind of goaded Polybotes into healing me. He did a…thorough job.”

 

“All of them?” Hylla blinked.

 

“All of them,” he confirmed, “I’m still undecided on how I feel about that.”

 

“I bet,” Hylla nodded. “There’s a guest room down the hall, third door on the right. You look worse than I feel, and that’s saying something. Get some rest, and then we can come up with a strategy for aiding New Rome.”

 

Percy gave her a lazy salute and made a bee-line directly for the room, his eyes growing heavier with each step. Unnaturally so, too. He barely managed to throw himself into the bed before his eyes closed shut. It felt a little like an out of body experience for several moments before he found himself standing in a large marble room, a mannequin wearing the Panoply of War in front of him. Percy himself was in a _toga praetexta_ , the formal toga equivalent of a dress uniform, or a tuxedo. Vertical purple stripes ran across it, and he took a moment to admire the quality of the fabric.

 

“You cut a striking figure,” a soft female voice said behind him, and he turned to find himself face to face with a middle-aged woman with soft brown hair and eyes of fire. She could only be Vesta, the spiritual mother of all the Romans, not unlike Lupa. “Neptune never liked the Toga, but if you look a fraction of what he did, I can imagine he may have been far popular with your people.”

 

“My lady,” he bowed, “how may I serve?

 

“That’s what you struggle with, is it not?” Vesta asked, moving around him, studying him closely, “servitude. It’s not in your nature, both as a Roman and as the Son of Neptune. ‘The Sea does not like to be contained,’ my brother often says, and I’ve never seen it more evident in you. And yet…you _do_ serve. Lupa’s training has managed to overrule your nature. Do you believe that was her intention?”

 

It was a test. Percy knew it, and Vesta knew that he knew it.

 

“Mother Lupa is required to train each Demigod to serve Rome,” he said carefully, “no matter how that service comes into play. She did what she was supposed to.”

 

“Clever boy,” Vesta praised, “but not what I asked. Do you believe that Lupa trained you to be subservient to others?”

 

“To others? No,” he shook his head, “to Rome? Yes. I don’t serve _people_ , I serve Rome, and the Legion.”

 

“But not the Gods?”

 

“I serve Rome and the Legion,” he repeated, “and they serve the Gods.”

 

“Interesting,” Vesta hummed, “I do believe I was right about you, young Perseus. Why do you struggle with being passed over for leadership, when you could just _take_ it?”

 

“That would be wrong,” he said immediately, “it would be selfish, and stupid, and it would go against every ideal I was raised with.”

 

“Except Lupa never told you _not_ to be selfish,” Vesta noted, “she simply said never let it override your loyalty to Rome. In fact…I believe it was your mother who told you not to be selfish, when you were just a boy.”

 

“I wouldn’t remember,” he said quietly, “I don’t think about those times very often.”

 

“I’m aware,” Vesta told him, “you’re still wondering why I’m here.”

 

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

 

“You’re here because I need you to understand, Percy, that we have not placed others above you to spite you, but to educate you,” Vesta explained, “each person you have followed has been to impart knowledge, on both success and failure. Your own time to lead approaches.”

 

“May I speak freely, Lady Vesta?”

 

“I would be insulted if you didn’t,” she replied with a small smile.

 

“I don’t want to lead because the gods have said it should be so,” he told her, “I want to lead because I know I can do it. Because I have the skills and experience to not only take power, but to hold it. I can make Rome better. I can make us powerful, but I want to lead because _I can do it_ , not because someone else has _said_ that I can.”

 

“Power is dangerous, Perseus,” Vesta warned, “but you have proven to be one who controls power, not the other way around. In every instance, you have avoided using the Dagger of Brutus unless necessary. You have never abused the power that the ring of Augustus gives you. Juno was right you send you after the artefacts. If you want power, you must take it, but to take it, you must show it. Do you understand? This will not be Othrys, where you hold back until it is necessary. From the moment you arrive, you must display force, to an overwhelming degree.”

 

“Shock and awe,” Percy said, “for both sides.”

 

“Indeed,” Vesta smiled at him, but there was no joy in it, only ambition, “I am the guardian of the Roman State, and you will be my representative amongst them, ushering them to their ultimate form. Juno thinks Jason will be enough, but we both know that he is a better ambassador than leader, do we not?”

 

“He’s a fantastic leader,” Percy defended immediately.

 

“But you are better,” Vesta waved his protest off. “Now go and _prove it_.”

 

Percy eyes snapped open, and his hand tightened around a hilt. He glanced down to see the Sword of Germanicus resting in his right hand. There was a knock on the door, and Hylla poked her head in. She glanced at his sword but didn’t say anything.

 

“We’re ready to leave,” she told him, “you have any idea for a game plan?”

 

Percy grinned at her.

 

“As a matter of fact,” he said slowly, “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> God damn this was a bitch to write. Just over 5,000 words, which makes it about forty percent longer than what I usually write. As I have stated, my goal is for each chapter to be about this length, so the chapters will come out every few weeks, rather than once/twice a week.
> 
> We get some Hazel, some Reyna, and we get the first few paragraphs from the Lost Hero at the very end. The next chapter will be Percy in Seattle with the Amazons, as he finds out what the quest he’s being sent on is.
> 
> Additionally, I’d like to take the time to remind y’all that I am a college student, so my time isn’t exactly abundant. I write when I can, normally to the detriment of my sleep schedule, but I do it because A.) I love it, and B.) I love all of you who read my stories. But this is important because I generally write what I want to write. That means that sometimes stories will be neglected for a while because I just cant find the drive to write for them. Will this happen for this story? Maybe. It’s already happened before with others. I just wanted to put that out there.


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